


Someone Rescues Her from the Storm

by MyPenName



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dmitry and Gleb will get to fight for her this time, F/M, Guns, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2018-11-18 13:06:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11291298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyPenName/pseuds/MyPenName
Summary: Gleb confronts Anya at the height of her conviction in herself. She’s got the Empress’ belief. She remembered the music box. But at her lowest point Anya runs away alone, fresh from being rejected by the Empress. Gleb was at the ballet to find her. It seems almost convenient he didn’t find her then.AT where Gleb finds Anya at the ballet and kidnaps her. Vlad, Dmitry and even the Dowager Empress are drawn into a mad chase to find her. Everything spirals out of control very quickly.





	1. She's Near at Hand

Gleb Vaganov walked down the stairs from the box seat he had bought at the ballet, fist clenching and unclenching. His gun rested heavily in his jacket pocket. He had had Anya in his sights and he let her go again. He had let his heart win again. He just couldn’t bring himself to shoot her without giving her another chance. He would find her and ask her one last time if she would come home with him. He had to get her alone. The two men, who were either her manipulators or collaborators, would certainly interfere, and while Gleb was good enough in a fight he didn’t like the odds of three on one physically either.

Gleb looked about the assembled guests grabbing drinks from the bar and generally milling about. The excess on display here was extraordinary. He’d felt disgusted at using his discretionary funds on the tickets and tux to fit in, doubly so now that it had all come to nothing. He resolved to not waste the next time.

Moments after coming to this resolution he saw her burst through the door, his eyes drawn by the sparkling blue dress making her way toward the exit. Anya. Anya alone. He felt instinct take over. He pushed his way toward her. He tried to maintain a veneer of politeness. “Sorry, sir, miss, excuse me.” His heart raced. So close. Then he was behind her. He reached out, his hand landing heavily on her shoulder. Anya spun around, knocking his hand away.

“Just lea-“ Her voice died in her throat as their eyes met and recognition flashed across her face. “Gleb?” she asked in a voiceless whisper. His hand landed back on her shoulder and he gripped it firmly. He gave her a thin smile and leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

“Follow me outside. Quietly.” For emphasis, his free hand pressed the gun in his jacket into her ribs. He felt her trembling. She seemed to always shake when he touched her. He hated that the thought of her fearing him wrenched his heart. After all, she should fear him. He had a gun at her ribs and orders to kill her if she really was Anastasia. He pulled back to look at her, feeling grim. To his surprise, her eyes appeared dry but streaks of tears ran down her cheeks. Had she been crying before he got to her? 

Their eyes locked, Anya staring at him intently, seeming to go through some internal struggle, then her face turned hard and she nodded. Gleb nodded back, took her by the hand, and began to lead her toward the door. She closed her hand around his, gripping it firmly. He glanced back in surprise; she stared straight ahead, not meeting his gaze, looking shaken but determined. He wouldn’t let the opportunity go to waste. Gleb set as brisk a pace toward the door as the crowd would allow.

* * *

 Vladimir Popov was standing near the bar with his second vodka. It had been about 10 minutes since Anya had gone in to see the Dowager Empress. The waiting was unbearable, hopes pinned on performances he could no longer control. He took a sip. He reasoned that the longer she was in the more likely it was going well. They’d have a lot to catch up on. And even if this all went sideways, they were safe and out of Russia. He’d feel a bit guilty about misleading Anya, but a beautiful young girl like her would do well in France, he felt quite assured. And maybe whatever was going on between Anya and Dmitry could have a happy ending.

He was surveying the crowd when he saw Anya step through the door, looking distinctly unhappy. Well, that was that he supposed, time to smooth some feathers. Vlad lingered at the bar finishing his drink. He knew from experience Anya would need some time to cool off before he could begin the smoothing process. Plus he was near the exit, he could head her off easily in a moment if she was trying to bolt. He was considering his next move when he saw a Russian-looking man grab Anya by the shoulder. 

Vlad watched Anya spin around. The man’s face looked familiar, and Vlad felt suddenly very uneasy. Maybe it was just at the Neva Club, Vlad tried to reason, but the hairs standing up at the back of his neck seemed to contradict this. Vlad saw the man whisper in Anya’s ear, and then the recognition hit him like a bolt of lightning. That man had been giving a speech about renaming Petersburg. In a police uniform. His knees felt weak. He waited for Anya to kick up a fuss. Then he could cut in, get the crowd on his side. He saw Anya and the man exchange nods instead. The man took Anya’s hand and was walking towards the door.

Vlad felt the panic rising. He needed to do something, he needed to stop them. He couldn’t let them get her. Vlad stood frozen in place as the pair made their way toward the door. Memories of his arrest, of the days before Dmitry saved him flooded his mind. He remembered the feeling of his certain knowledge that he was about to die. The man and Anya walked out the front door.

Vlad shook himself. If he didn’t do something they would kill Anya. He downed the rest of his drink and urgently started to push his way to the door.

* * *

 Anya held her head straight and proud, but Gleb could see the fear in her eyes. The adrenaline he had been running on was quickly starting to run out as he realized he didn’t really have a plan. The street had a fair number of people walking about, although most of the ballet patrons were inside for the intermission. As he scanned, he saw a taxi parked nearby apparently unengaged. He pulled Anya toward it. She didn’t resist.

“I need you to take us to this hotel,” Gleb told the taxi driver in French while handing him the card he had picked up at the hotel. He had studied French at school, part of the reason they had sent him on this part of the mission, despite his earlier ... mistake.

“I’m on break, and this is close, barely worth the fare. Just walk.” The driver handed back the card. 

“The lady is ill and I do not want to make her walk. It won’t take long. You said it was not far.” Gleb glanced over his shoulder. There were people standing near the door, he couldn’t tell if any were paying them any mind. The driver was looking over Anya dubiously. 

“Please?” Anya added quietly. The driver seemed to soften at that. Gleb kept his poker face.

“I’ll give you a good tip,” Gleb added, trying to close the deal.

“Alright, alright get in.” The driver started the engine. “It better be a good tip though.” Gleb opened the door for Anya, handed her in, and looked back towards the entrance. There was an older man walking toward them. Gleb recognized him as one of the men sitting in her box that night. Their eyes met as Gleb closed Anya inside the taxi. Gleb put his hands in his pockets and casually stretched his arms, knowing this would give that man, Vladimir Popov he presumed, a nice view of the gun in the interior pocket of the jacket. Popov stopped. Gleb allowed himself a small smile at that, and then walked around to the other side of the car and got in.

The taxi driver pulled away from the curb and Gleb watched with satisfaction as Popov stood there crestfallen. Gleb’s first priority was Anya, but should the con artists try anything he had lethal authority, well, with his government in any case. French police could make things more complicated. Still, traitors like them deserved whatever they got. Anya saw him looking in her direction and followed his gaze out the window. She gave a start when she saw Popov watching and started to raise her hand to the window. Gleb caught it and pulled it down. She looked at him in surprise and he gave her a small shake of the head. She nodded again grimly and directed her gaze toward her knees instead.

The rest of the short taxi ride passed in tense silence. Gleb continued to hold her hand, not wanting to break the connection. 


	2. Next to Me This Frightened Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dmitry discover's Anya's been taken, and Gleb and Anya get to talk.

“God will judge you harshly, old woman. History already has.” The words echoed in Dmitry’s head as he ran from the room to catch up with Anya. Stupid old woman, the granddaughter she puts a reward out for shows up and she can’t even tell. He would have said more, but he couldn’t let Anya get too far away. She needed to know that the old woman was wrong. And that he was sorry. This had started all wrong, but she needed to know that even if it started as a lie, it was really true.

Dmitry let out a long frustrated sigh as he encountered the press of people in the lobby. He made his way toward the exit. He knew from their previous clashes in the Yusupov palace she tended to make dramatic exits when fights didn’t go her way. She’d probably head straight back to the hotel.

Dmitry pushed his way through the crowd toward the door, looking around for a blue dress in case he misjudged her response or Vlad had managed to waylay her. He didn’t see either. He hoped Anya would forgive him. She’d be angry for a while, of course, but she could see past that. Maybe it was even a blessing in disguise; they wouldn’t have to say goodbye, well, if he could get back in her good graces. They had at least made it to Paris, right?

He made it through the door and saw Vlad sitting in the middle of the sidewalk, earning a mix of concerned and scornful looks from passersby.

“Vlad what are you doing? Did you see Anya? Surely you’re not that upset about the Empress’s reaction…” Dmitry slowed his pace as he came up to Vlad’s side. Vlad looked up at Dmitry, his eyes wide.

“They’ve got her, ” Vlad grabbed Dmitry’s hand and pulled himself up. Dmitry had never seen Vlad this shaken. “I just let him- oh God.”

“Slow down, what are you talking about?” Dmitry put a steadying hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“A Russian officer. He had a gun. I froze. We should never-” Vlad’s voice broke. “They’re going to kill her.”

“A Russian officer took Anya?” Dmitry asked. Vlad nodded. Dmitry felt himself being to panic. “We have to find her before-” Dmitry couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. He wouldn’t let it happen. Vlad was lost in his guilt. Dmitry shook him a little. “Vlad, did you see where they went? They can’t have got far yet.” Suddenly Vlad’s hand was a vice on Dmitry’s shoulder, and Vlad met Dmitry’s eye’s with terror.

“Don’t. Dmitry I can’t-” Vlad broke eye contact. “I can’t lose you too.” Dmitry stiffened, and jerked away.

“You’d let her die to save our skins? We’re the reason she’s even in this situation!” Dmitry’s panic turned to anger. Vlad drooped. Dmitry regretted the outburst; they needed to work together right now. He put a lid on his feelings. “Just tell me what you saw Vlad.” Vlad crossed his arms, as if trying to keep himself from falling apart. He looked tired and very old.

“He took her in a cab, had some disagreement with the driver about the hotel being too close. They drove off that way.” Vlad pointed. Dmitry nodded.

“Wait at our hotel in case she manages to escape. And she might have, she’s tough.” Dmitry wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure himself of Vlad. “I’ll call the hotel to check in when I find something,” Dmitry said gruffly and then out of a strange impulse gave Vlad a quick embrace.

“I’ll bring her back Vlad. I’ll bring us both back.” Then, feeling a bit embarrassed by his uncharacteristic display of affection, he started taking off down the street Vlad had pointed down.

Just as he turned to walk away he heard Vlad whisper, “Be safe, Dima.” Ears burning, he hurried off.

* * *

 When Gleb and Anya arrived at the hotel, Gleb gave the taxi driver double the fair as a tip for the short ride and hustled Anya up the stairs to his room. He noticed a couple people giving them sideways glances - Gleb and Anya were dressed much nicer than the average patron here - but no one said anything.

When he got into the room he promptly locked the door behind him, tucking the room key back into his coat pocket, and faced her. Anya watched this, eyes flicking from him to the lock with obvious apprehension. He wanted to reassure her, but he had to put up a strong front; he’d shown her kindness before, and she had abused it. A moment of uncertain silence hung between them. Anya broke it first.

“So. What happens now?” Anya asked with a forced calm. She’d sounded very much the same just a few weeks ago when he had her in his office. He took it as a reminder not to trust her. He’d imagined several times what he’d say to her when this moment finally came.

“The last time I saw you, I chose to trust you. I let you go. But not this time. Paris is no place for a good and loyal Russian.” Gleb’s voice was hard, with an expression to match, though it almost hurt to do so. He didn’t understand why she elicited such sympathy; why, when he had handled dozens of other traitors this girl brought out this weakness in him. Anya looked chagrined.

“You’re right. I wish I’d listened to you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but sounding completely sincere. He felt a small spark of hope in his treacherous heart.

“I’m here to take you home.” That’s what he wanted, desperately wanted, but he knew his orders. She didn’t have to come home alive.

Anya looked up into his eyes, and he could see hope mixed in with the fear now. Silent tears started.

“Your timing is really impeccable,” Anya’s said half laughing, half crying. “Not a moment before you found me I’d wished I had never left home, and now here you are. Can I really go home?”  She looked at him with such sincerity and innocent hope that Gleb felt his defensive walls crumbling. He couldn’t let her off just yet, he needed to be sure.

“Tell me your name,” Gleb tried to ask sternly, but he felt gentleness creeping into his voice. She looked confused. He put a finger under chin and locked eyes with her. “Who are you?” he whispered. Understanding flashed in her eyes, and then she gave another bitter laugh.

“I guess I’ll never get to know,” Anya said. It was Gleb’s turn to be confused. Anya saw this and seemed to be searching for words, then shrugged helplessly. “I’m _not_ Anastasia. I should never have even entertained this fantasy. Being Anya is enough. Please take me home Gleb; I don’t belong here,” Anya said. It was everything he hoped he would hear. He felt incredulous, and then waves of happiness and relief washed over him. He suddenly threw his arms around her, pulling her close. Anya jerked back in surprise. He felt heat rise to his cheeks, and dropped his arms.

“I-” He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure, “I apologize,” he immediately lost it again, “I’m just- so happy Anya. I knew you weren’t- that you...” His voice trailed off as his thoughts got garbled. It must have been the men, they must have forced her. He wrapped both his arms around her more slowly this time. After a few moments he felt her tentatively return the hug. His heart felt full as he held her against him.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he whispered fiercely.

“Thank you,” she whispered and her arms tightened around him. They held each other in silence, and Gleb felt a twinge of guilt begin to creep up on him. That would be a very hard promise to keep when he brought her back. They wanted to make an example of her. Bringing her back was not the safest thing for her, but it was each their duty to return and face the consequences. Then another thought crossed his mind.

“You must know I can’t let you out of my sight again until we’re in Russia. If you deceive me again the consequences will be … severe. Do you understand, Anya?” He pulled away gently, so he could look at her, hands on her shoulders now. There were a few fresh tears on her face. She looked lost. He hated making the threat, but he knew he couldn’t trust his judgement when it came to her. Then she smiled a little weakly.

“You’re not here to just rescue me, are you? I’m-” Gleb could see the blood draining from Anya’s face, “I’m in a lot of trouble, aren’t I? Oh God, I’m such an idiot,” She tried to take a step back, but he tightened his grip on her shoulders.

“Anya. Stop. Yes, there are going to be … consequences, but it may not be as bad as you think,” Gleb said not wanting to lie, but not wanting her to panic either. She didn’t look convinced and she was trembling again. He tried to think of some way to reassure her. “My first duty is always to help the loyal, hard-working Russian citizens, even if they’ve been led astray. I will do everything I can to protect you Anya, but you have to help me too. Coming back so willingly is already a huge step in earning good faith.” This did seem to have a calming effect on Anya.

“Alright. What do I need to do?” Anya looked at him expectantly. He smiled at her, feeling relieved. He was going to save her. From the conmen here and from what the conmen had done to her.

“Let’s not worry about that right now; we’ll have plenty of time to discuss that on the way home. Let’s just get comfortable for the night. You must be tired.”


	3. Can This Be the Place?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dmitry and Anya feel a little foolish for being so impulsive.

Dmitry began to feel foolish almost immediately after running off in the direction Vlad had pointed. He didn’t know the area, he barely spoke French. It was dark and the streets curved so much he was worried he’d get lost. He wasn’t going to turn tail and run back to Vlad yet, though. He stopped a couple people to ask, “where find hotel?” The first couple he tried to talk to looked away and kept walking, but another gentlemen gave him a couple directions which he was thankfully able to parse.

Dmitry had been resistant to learning French. He still hadn’t forgotten the jab about Russian being for the common man. Nothing wrong with being a common man. He was proud of it. About halfway on their journey Anya and Vlad had started teasing him about not being able to talk to anyone in Paris. That’s when it hit him that he had really left Russia and the language of the common man was not going to be Russian in his new country. It was going to be French. He had begrudgingly accepted lessons, but the week and a half of their journey he had spent learning only covered the very basics.

He went into the hotel realizing he had no idea how he was going to ask about Anya. He walked up nervously to the hotel concierge, who welcomed him with a greeting in French.

“Do you speak Russian?” Dmitry asked without much hope. The concierge gave him a blank look. Dmitry wracked his brain for how to ask. Asking for the hotel and directions were some of the first things they taught him, being extremely practical for being in a new city. Describing people and objects and situations involving kidnapping had not been covered. Dmitry ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

“Man, uh,” Dmitry remembered Vlad trying to teach him to complement Anya, to both his and Anya’s deep embarrassment, “beautiful Russian woman…” The concierge continued to give him a blank look. He looked around for inspiration. There was a blue vase on the desk. He pointed at the vase then mimed curtseying, and repeated “woman” again.

The concierge looked uncomfortable and said “Sorry, I don’t understand.” Those words had been in Dmitry’s training. He sighed; perhaps he should have brought Vlad along after all. If he would have come.

Dmitry’s eyes fell on some note paper and pen on the desk. He reached for them looking at the concierge for permission. The concierge nodded. Dmitry picked up the pen and did his best to try and draw Anya in her dress. It was crude, but he got the general shape. He pointed from the Vase to her dress, and then said “where find woman?” The concierge picked up the note frowning. He looked from it to Dmitry for a couple moments, and finally shook his head.

“I don’t know, sorry. Do you have a name I can check?” the concierge asked. Dmitry frowned trying to understand the concierge. He picked out ‘you’, ‘have’ and ‘name’ and made a leap, but he had no idea the name of the man who had taken her.

“Russian man?” Dmitry said sheepishly. The concierge frowned in annoyance this time. He said something Dmitry couldn’t really make out, and made a shooing motion with his hand. Dmitry slammed his hands on the desk. “Please! I have to find her! She’s in danger!” Dmitry blurted out desperately in Russian. The concierge took a step back at the forcefulness of his tone but obviously did not understand.

“Who’s in danger?” an unfamiliar voice asked from behind him in Russian. Dmitry spun around. A tall, thin woman with light blonde hair wearing a smart dress was standing in the doorway. Dmitry hesitated; Vlad hadn’t mentioned anyone else, but that didn’t mean the officer didn’t have a network here. Still, things couldn’t get much worse for Anya, and if this woman was in on taking Anya he’d know he was close, at least.

“Her name is Anya, she’s been kidnapped.” Dmitry decided to omit the kidnapper’s profession, just in case. No recognition flashed in the woman’s eyes at the name. She looked taken aback though. Dmitry continued. “She was wearing a blue evening dress. She was taken from the ballet. A man who saw it said the man who took her got into a cab, asked for a hotel and the cab driver said the hotel was close by.”

“I see, so that’s why you think she might be here. You want me to explain that to this man?” the  Russian woman asked. Dmitry nodded gratefully. The Russian woman began speaking in French to the concierge who looked increasingly alarmed. The concierge replied to the woman, and then looked at Dmitry.

“He hasn’t seen this woman, but he has a list of hotels nearby,” the Russian woman said. “He says he can call some of other hotels to ask ahead if you want.” Dmitry thought about this and then nodded at the concierge, who nodded back and picked up the telephone.

* * *

 “Do you need anything? Are you comfortable?” Gleb had asked kindly while also handcuffing Anya to the bedpost. He was going downstairs to send a telegram and didn’t want to take her down with him.

“Is this really necessary? I’m not going to run away. I want to go with you,” Anya said a little pitifully. She was not comfortable. The feel of metal around her wrist made her chest feel very tight. Gleb smiled at her reassuringly and cupped her cheek. Anya leaned into it in the hopes of gaining a little more sympathy.

“I believe you, Anya. But-” he paused for effect, “I can’t risk you having second thoughts.” He seemed almost cheerful, apparently oblivious to the rising panic in Anya. “Do you want me to bring you some food?” Anya’s stomach was churning with anxiety, but she had long since learned to never, ever turn down food, so she nodded. Gleb backed out of the room still smiling at her. Anya smiled back weakly, feeling like she was in some sort of bizarre dream. He shut and locked the door behind him, and as soon as his footsteps receded she let a long sigh.

The night had been a roller coaster of emotions and was not showing any signs of slowing down. The hope of being recognized, the devastation of rejection. The fear of seeing Gleb, the hope of returning to her old life. The brief moment of peace when he’d promised to protect her and held her in his arms, and she had thought for just for that moment everything would be all right. Then that crashed down around her when she realized his real purpose here. Whatever he might say about keeping her safe, he was also keeping her prisoner, and she had the distinct feeling nothing good waited for her back in Russia if this was how she was being brought back. She rattled her wrist against the handcuffs, tears starting to sting her eyes. 

Anya forced herself to push down the fear by putting her attention on her surroundings. She sat on a double bed pressed up against a wall. In the wall was a small window with starchy white curtains firmly pulled shut. A painting of flowers hung on the wall next to the door. A small wooden dresser stood across the room from the foot of the bed. Next to that was a door into the bathroom; it had modern plumbing. There was a small writing desk with a wooden chair, which now had the beautiful blue dress draped across it. Gleb had allowed her to change into a spare pair of his pajamas in the bathroom. They were comfy enough, but handcuffed to the bed they made her feel like she was wearing a prison jumpsuit. She tugged her wrist against the handcuffs. They felt depressingly solid.  

What had she done? How had she even gotten here? Not just this room, but to Paris. How could she have allowed herself to become so deluded. The Grand Duchess Anastasia? What a joke. She wondered if Dmitry had simply played along with that parade “memory” to boost her confidence. He’d seemed so sincere at the time, kneeling before her as if it were all real. Dmitry was a talented con man, she reminded herself bitterly.  A dull anger settled over her. She tried to be charitable, she supposed her mind could have just filled in the memory correctly by coincidence. Bowing was the next most logical thing for him to do, but it seemed more likely that he had made it all up. She should never have trusted him.

As angry as she was with Vlad and Dmitry, she felt angriest with herself. She’d let her hopes get so high. She thought she’d finally figured it out. Now, she was back to being no one, with nobody.

Her eyes fell onto the hat sitting on the writing desk. Gleb. He had tried to warn her, save her from this before. She’d just been too desperate for Paris and ghosts to listen. When she took his hand in the ballet she thought she was escaping, and, if she was honest, punishing Vlad and Dmitry. She’d go back to Russia without them, embracing someone antithetical to what they were. Nevermind all the other reasons they had left in the first place. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She pulled her wrist against the handcuff again. Well, Gleb wasn’t exactly unjustified in this treatment. She certainly was having second thoughts, but she knew she couldn’t turn back. She wanted to return and belong in Russia, and, while she didn’t think going back with Gleb was the wisest decision, she was done running and pretending. And who knew, maybe he really could protect her, maybe it wouldn’t really be so bad. She didn’t know whether she should trust hope; hope seemed to have led her down a pretty poor path. That and impulsiveness. Maybe she’d end up in front of a firing squad.

Anya wondered bitterly what life would be like now if she had listened to Gleb’s warning. She would still be dreaming about a home and family, but she wouldn’t have the pain of the knowledge to know she’d run hard into a dead end. But even wondering, she knew she would never have passed up this chance. She’d been running here for 10 years. Hope like that was painful to live with, and it drove her. Without it, she felt as if part of her had just disappeared, leaving a gaping hole in it’s place. 

The reality of her failure fully hit her. Her time in Paris was over, any hope of understanding her dreams gone. The Alexander Bridge had seemed so right when she thought she was Anastasia, but it hadn’t triggered any actual memories. They had walked around Paris. There were plenty of bridges and squares. Her dream was a ghost of a memory from who knows how long ago. The person she was supposed to meet could be dead, could have moved. They would hardly be waiting at whatever bridge it was everyday. If she wasn’t Anastasia she could be anyone, and nothing here had triggered memories. No one had come up to her and said ‘why don’t you look just like how I imagined my long lost relative from Russia would look now.’ She had no leads on her real identity that she could follow. Even if she had been free. Even if Paris was really the right city, and she’d never been absolutely sure of that. Even if that memory was based on _anything_ real.  

Russia was where she belonged, she thought, feeling resigned. Paris had always been a silly dream. She looked at her handcuffed wrist. She desperately wanted to trust Gleb. He seemed so sincere, and he had never done anything to make her doubt his honesty. He obviously cared for her, though she couldn’t fathom what she had done to deserve his favor. She doubted his superiors felt the same. The Bolsheviks don’t send officers to do wellness checks on wayward citizens all the way in Paris.

Why had she done this to herself? Why? She let out a sharp sigh. She knew why, and it had all been for nothing. She felt the tears she’d been holding back overflow. She wiped them away with her free hand. She couldn’t deal with that right now. She had to plan, she had to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and for the comments so far! It's very motivating! Next chapter needs some pretty major revisions, but I'm on vacation now and have some time, so hopefully will get that out soon~


	4. Keep Your Nerve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dmitry gets a lead on Anya. Gleb and Anya have a heart to heart.

“I’m Oxana, what’s your name?” the Russian woman asked Dmitry. They waited as the concierge made a call to another hotel.

“Dmitry. You’re a real lifesaver,” Dmitry said with feeling. “We’ve only just arrived and I haven’t learned much French yet,” he added a bit sheepishly.

“Have you called the police?” Oxana asked curiously. Dmitry froze. He hadn’t even considered the police. The police had always been the enemy. He supposed France’s police were different than Russian police. Could be different. But then again Anya was technically being arrested.

Oxana took a guess at the conflict. “The police aren’t so bad here, people don’t tend to disappear as much.” Dmitry wasn’t sure how to argue without revealing who had taken Anya, and ran his fingers through his hair uncomfortably. He had no idea what would happen if the police got involved, but he couldn’t imagine it would go his way. Oxana narrowed her eyes.

“What is it you’re not saying? This isn’t some lover’s quarrel type thing? She was really kidnapped, not just going off with some man you don’t like?” she asked, suddenly suspicious. Dmitry felt heat rise to his cheeks.

“No! It’s nothing like that. It’s-” he hesitated. Most Russians who ended up out here probably hated the new Soviet government, he figured. He decided to trust her. “It’s the Bolsheviks.” That caught the woman’s attention.

“Your friend must have really upset the Bolsheviks if they sent someone to extract her from Paris.” She watched his face closely. Dmitry looked away.

“It’s my fault. She’s innocent,” he said quietly. The woman tilted her head, considering Dmitry.

“Innocent of what?” she asked. At that moment the concierge broke into the conversation, holding the telephone. The woman replied and then turned to Dmitry.

“Looks like he found someone who recognized the description. I told him to hold off on calling the police until we go and confirm its her. Don’t want to stir up trouble for the wrong people, of course.” She gave him a tight smile. “I have the address. Let me drop off my bag and we can go.”

“We?” Dmitry asked trying to push back on this sudden plural pronoun.

“Yeah, you need an interpreter don’t you? And if this really is all your fault, she might not want to see you, hm?” she said, walking deeper into the hotel. Dmitry couldn’t argue.

Then he remembered Vlad, and turned to the concierge. He asked the concierge in his broken French to send a message to his hotel for Vlad that he had found Anya.

* * *

Anya sat on the bed, knees pressed to her chest, her left arm held at an unnatural angle thanks to the handcuffs. She had managed to repress tears more or less but each minute alone stuck to the bed added to her anxiety. When he returned she needed to convince him how fully committed she was to going back. She couldn’t do this again. She hadn’t wiped away her latest burst of tears, hoping that it might play on his sympathies to that end. She traced patterns on the bedspread trying to occupy herself.

She heard footsteps stop outside the door and looked up. She heard the sound of china being shifted around and then the sound of a key scraping in the lock. The door swung open a little. She saw Gleb bend down to pick up a tray and back into the room carrying it.

“I’m back,” Gleb announced with forced cheeriness, “and I’ve brought us some tea.” He turned to face her, kicking the door shut with his foot. She looked up at him. She watched as guilt started to creep across his face before dropping her gaze. She heard him set the tray down carefully on the desk and then go back to lock the door. No, he couldn’t forget to do that, she thought bitterly. She pulled her knees in tighter, refusing to look at him.

She heard his footsteps approaching, the last few faltering. There was a pause as he seemed uncertain what to do next. His hand reached out and gently brushed away her tears with his thumb.

“I’m sorry that was necessary, Anya,” Gleb said very quietly. She looked up at him. Guilt was very plainly written across his face. That was good, she could use that.  “Let’s get you out of those now.” He pulled a key from his jacket pocket and released her wrist. She pulled it away quickly and began rubbing it. There was a thin red line where she had been pulling against it.

“Thank you,” she said, the recent tears evident in her voice. She decided now was her moment, while he still felt bad about it. “Gleb, I want to prove to you that you can trust me. I don’t … want to be locked up, again. Please.” She felt a little pathetic begging like this, but she felt even more pathetic in handcuffs. She glanced up through her eyelashes to see his reaction. Gleb looked a million miles away. “Gleb?”

“This isn’t about me trusting you Anya, it’s about following procedure.” He sounded resigned. She tried to push. 

“Was it following procedure when you let me go in St Petersburg? Surely you have some discretion in the matter.” As soon as it was out of her mouth she realized it was stupid thing to say. Gleb gave her a deadpan look.

“What happened after I let you go in _Leningrad_ is exactly why I am following procedure this time. Having you unhandcuffed in my presence is already an allowance,” Gleb said brusquely.

“I see,” she said, shoulders slumping. She’d have to find a different opening later. “What’s going to happen when you bring me back?” she asked. Gleb turned away from her, not answering. That scared her. Then he pulled out his pistol. Anya bit back a shriek, pressing a hand over her mouth. Gleb glanced back with a start and then stared at the pistol in his hand.

“I brought this in case I met Anastasia, but lucky for us both Anastasia has been dead for a long time,” Gleb said, his voice now as distant as his expression. Anya felt a shiver run up and down her spine. He put the gun on the desk with what seemed like disgust. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it carelessly over the desk chair and dress. “I warned you this was a dangerous game, Anya. And you didn’t listen.” The full force of his gaze was now on Anya, and she found herself spellbound, unable to look away. There was anger, hurt. He was walking towards her with purpose and suddenly his hand was under her chin, and their eyes locked. Her heart was pounding.

“Tell me why,” he asked in a whisper. It was a subtle shift but she could see his sadness now too. She felt a connection as if they were both stretching their arms across a chasm trying to reach each other but couldn’t quite bridge it. She tried to formulate words, but felt overwhelmed. She pulled herself from his grip, and he dropped his hand, waiting for her to answer. If she wanted him to trust her, she supposed she ought to tell the truth. She took a steadying breath.

“I’m nobody, Gleb. And I- I desperately wanted to be somebody. Anybody really,” she said, watching Gleb’s reaction carefully. He frowned. Anya winced, realizing how that sounded.

“How can you say you’re nobody? You’re a hard worker, the epitome of the new Russia we’re trying to create,” Gleb said.

“Not it’s not that, it’s-” Anya tried to change tack. “What’s the first thing you remember, Gleb?” He blinked, now confused by the apparently abrupt change of subject. His answer didn’t really matter, she pressed forward. 

“10 years ago I woke up in a hospital bed. It was a rainy day. I had bruises all over my body and two gunshot wounds: one in my stomach and one in my leg.” She lifted up the bottom of the pajama shirt to reveal the scar, his hand started to reach out to touched it and she dropped the shirt. “The nurses said I was found on the side of a road. No one knew who I was. That is the very first thing I remember. Everything before that is blackness. The nurses named me Anya.” Gleb’s eyes widened in shock and sympathy. “I’m _nobody,_ Gleb. I don’t know my real name, how old I am, the name or face of a single family member, or anyone or anything connected to who I was before. And so...” Anya’s voice trailed off, not wanting to bring the subject full circle. Gleb finished her thought.

“And so you thought you could be a Romanov?” Gleb asked with a mix of pity and incredulity. “Anya-” She cut him off before he could say more.

“You don’t understand, Gleb. Dmitry. Vlad. They were the first people that thought they knew my past. It was impossible, but yet was the first tangible hope I ever had.” Anya suddenly took his hands, wanting him to understand. “I didn’t do it to become royalty, or for money or to undermine Russia. I just wanted to find my family. I’ve been so alone, traveling across Russia hoping to find someone, anyone who knew me. And then those two popped into my life, helping me, promising I could find my family, and I-” it was all too much, she pressed a hand to her mouth trying to keep herself from sobbing. Gleb looked lost, his hand hovering near her, apparently unsure if he should comfort her or not. It was almost funny given how casually he touched her most of the time.

“They were lying to you, Anya,” Gleb said helplessly. 

“I know that now!” Anya said, her voice cracking. The weight of her failure hit her like a wave and she couldn’t stop the tears this time. She turned away, not wanting him to see. She had really made a mess of things. She wished she could explain everything, but she felt very sure she didn’t want to let Gleb know all the reasons she thought she might be Anastasia lest he start to think it might be possible too. Her eyes flicked to the gun now lying on the desk. 

Gleb hesitantly sat down on the bed next to her, as if not to frighten her, and after another moments of hesitation put his arm around her only a little awkwardly. She found herself leaning into him in spite of herself. He was the one human anchor she had in this storm. She turned her face into his shoulder, and let herself take what comfort she could find. He was warm.

“I had to try,” Anya whispered. “Finding out who I am has been everything I worked for.” She glanced at Gleb; he was distant, thinking again. She felt suddenly nervous.

“It sounds like you need a new purpose then,” Gleb said slowly. “Look at your circumstances in a new light perhaps.” Anya could almost see the wheels in his head turning. He started to speak more quickly. “I know you, Anya. You’re honest, a hard worker. You can help us build a better Russia. Ten years you said? It’s almost as if you were created to be a symbol of the new Order, made fresh without the baggage of an old era. You have so much you can give, Anya.” Gleb was looking at her now, his eyes full of hope and expectation. Anya looked at him, stunned. The world had been chaotic when her memories started. She had never had a particularly friendly feeling to soldiers, guns always sending her into a panic. And yet there was something tempting in his offer, a way home and into a new future. Looking at the hope in his face she couldn’t help but feel it a little too.

“Is that possible? Even after what I’ve done?” Anya asked. Gleb smiled, his arm tightened around her.

“I think it is.” He looked away, thinking again. “We will need something to show them your loyalty. I don’t know what exactly it will be yet, but we have some time to figure it out. And we don’t need to figure it out tonight; we’ll plan better when we’re rested.” He smiled at her again, and she found she was smiling back. Then he suddenly dropped his arm and stood up. 

“The tea! I almost forgot!” He crossed the room to pick the tray and brought it back, placing it on the bed between them.


	5. My Past and My Future So Near

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dmitry and Oxana make a plan. Gleb and Anya talk about the possibilities of the future.

“Here’s what I think we should do. When we get there, I go to their room posing as a maid to assess the situation. I’ll make sure it’s really your girl, see how on their guard they seem to be, and then I come back and we decide what to do next. Sound good?” Oxana asked after Dmitry had explained everything he knew about the situation. They did not have any weapons, but he was good in a fight, he had assured her. That’s how he’d gotten by on the streets, after all. He had told her everything he could say about how Anya looked, which turned out to be more than he thought.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t go with you?” Dmitry asked doubtfully. He didn’t want to put this woman in danger.

“Of course I’m sure. He probably knows your face. You won’t be any use to that girl if he shoots you the moment you knock on the door,” Oxana said, perfectly reasonably. Dmitry found, again, he couldn’t argue, although he still didn’t feel good about the principal of the thing.

They got out of the taxi they had grabbed from the previous hotel. Dmitry paid the fare, and they went inside. It was a modest hotel but well kept. The walls inside were whitewashed; there were a couple oil paintings on the walls and warm-toned wood flooring. A man and woman stood at the concierge desk. It was getting late and the common area was otherwise empty.

Oxana walked up to the pair, and began speaking to them in French. He heard the name of the last hotel, and the word telephone, and girl. The man replied and Dmitry heard the word police. Oxana and the man went back a forth a couple more times

“This man is the hotel manager. He’s agreed to our plan to check out the room, but says if this is really a kidnapping he’s calling the police and letting them handle it. He doesn’t want unlawful fighting in his hotel,” Oxana said, finally looping Dmitry back in. “They’re going to lend me a uniform. They’re going to take you to the room behind the desk just in case we’re unlucky and he comes out while you’re here.” Dmitry nodded slowly.

“If you want I can tell them it isn’t the right person either way and we can make a plan. It will be harder to get back in, of course,”  she said, tilting her head. Dmitry scratched the back of his neck uncertainly. 

“Look. I don’t like admitting this, but I don’t know if I can take him on by myself. My friend said he had a gun. But I don’t know if the police would help us though.” Dmitri gave a frustrated sigh.

“Alright. We don’t have to decide now. Let me go see if we’re even in the right place.” Oxana gave him a friendly shoulder pat. The hotel manager held open the gate to behind the desk and beckoned him into a back room while the woman motioned to Oxana.

“Dmitry, just so I know, how much are you willing to risk to save this girl?” Oxana said, barring his path for a moment. Dmitry blinked in surprise and considered for just a moment.

“Everything,” Dmitry said firmly. 

“Oh. Good.” Oxana gave him a half smile, and followed the woman behind the desk to a different room. Dmitry walked into the room behind the concierge’s desk, and, for the second time that night, he had nothing to do but pace and stew.

* * *

It had been strange night, Gleb reflected with a little bit of wonder. He was finally having tea with Anya. But she was his prisoner and also wearing his pajamas. A very strange night indeed. They had been talking over the tea, sharing all the different places they’d lived, and eventually talking about their favorite spots in Leningrad. He had promised to take her to his favorite tea shop when they were home. She had smiled, only a little wistfully, and the conversation had fallen into a lull. He felt strangely happy. She was going through a lot, he could still see the weight she was carrying, but he could also see a future for her.

They wanted to make her an example, why not one of reform? A poor woman cast adrift by the horrors of war, taken in by con artists. Tricked into leaving the country and full of remorse, she is unable to return home, until a brave soviet officer rescues her from her plight. She returns to Russia a model citizen, full of the tales of evils of the west. If he could sell it right, there was a definite chance. He sipped his tea and watched Anya sip hers.

“Gleb, why did you become a soldier?” Anya asked conversationally.

“I told you about my father, didn’t I?” Gleb said. He had always known he would carry his father’s mantel. Anya nodded.

“Is that the only reason? Anya asked. She was munching on the last small sandwich on the tray.

“No of course not. I want to be a part of something bigger than myself. Something that improves people’s lives,” Gleb said. Anya looked up from the tray surprised.

“And you really believe that you are?” she said. Gleb bristled.

“What exactly are you suggesting?” he asked dryly. Anya dropped her eyes, a little nervously and went back to looking at the tray.   


“There’s just so much fear and poverty and hunger in Russia right now,” Anya said by way of explanation. Gleb pushed down his annoyance. She was right, certainly; he had eyes to see the people in need around him, but there was so much more. He went to sip tea to formulate a response and realized he had finished it. The entire tray was empty now. He picked it up and put it on the desk. When he turned around, Anya had started pulling pins out of her hair. He sat back down next to her.

“The chains of the Tsars were heavy. They’ve left scars, but we are all equal now. We aren’t perfect yet, certainly, but our principles will build the greatest civilization the world has ever seen. All men and women contributing to one great whole for the betterment of all. We all must do our part,” Gleb said. Anya looked at him, a little impressed, he thought.

“You really mean it, don’t you?” she said, surprised. Gleb felt surprised she would question that. It was nothing but the truth. Seeing his expression, she continued. “I admire that. I feel like I’ve been focused on nothing but myself for that past 10 years,” she said. She pulled out another pin, another lock tumbling free down her shoulder. He reached up to try and help. 

“You can be part of this too now,” Gleb said, fingers brushing lightly over her hair to find another pin. Her hair was softer than he’d imagined. He found one and pulled it out gently, “You don’t have to be alone.” He saw Anya shiver as the hair he pulled loose fell free.

“What can one street sweeper do?” Anya asked. He smiled as he pulled out another pin, her hair was almost entirely free now.

“That’s the beauty of the new order: everyone does something small to make something unbelievably big.” With that he found the last pin and pulled it out. He ran his fingers through her hair, smoothing it. “Hard work and dedication are what matter most. Even street sweeping is important to make our cities work,” he added with a touch of humor. “You’ll see Anya, when we get back, really open your eyes. See how each industrious person is contributing to the greater good. The times are changing, each day we get closer to our glorious future.” There was a pause as Anya reflected quietly on this. It wasn’t enough. She needed, to use her words, a tangible hope.

“Anya what do you want to do? If you could do anything?” Anya looked at him, startled. He smiled gently, “You know, women of our country can do anything now. Think about it. If you could settle down and really do something, what would it be?” Anya leaned back on the bed, thinking about it.

“I’ve really never thought about it before. I’ve always been just trying to scrape enough to live, and move on to the next place. It had been three years since I last slept in a real bed before we got here,” Anya said, a little bittersweet. Gleb was appalled. He had no idea conditions were that bad for her. Her expression became distant. “Do I really have room to dream here? I think I’ll be counting myself lucky if I’m alive when this is over.” Gleb’s heart clenched at the pain he could see behind her eyes. She put her head in her hands, her hair falling forward, hiding her face.

“I don’t think it will be as bad as all that,” Gleb said, trying to believe it himself. He brushed her hair back. “Thinking of a future you want can only help you move forward.”

“Alright,” Anya continued to think for a few moments, then she shook her head, “I don’t know. All I’ve dreamed about is finding my family.” She looked so sad, he felt moved to put an arm around her. His heart did a small flip when she leaned into him.

“What about starting a new family?” he asked softly, trying to give her something concrete. She stiffened and threw him a wary look. He realized what she must be thinking and took back his arm quickly, then looked fixedly at the floor. “You’re a wonderful girl, I’m sure you could find someone who would make you very happy, if that’s what you wanted,” he said in a rush. He had the sinking feeling he was blushing. Anya gave a nervous laugh.

“I suppose I might want to do that eventually,” she said. He glanced her way and she seemed lost in thought. He decided to steer this conversation back on course.

“You said you’ve done a lot of different jobs in your travels, did any of them stand out?” he prompted. She was thinking again.

“The hospital in Pern. I cleaned, but it was important.” She smiled at a memory. “It was disgusting at times, but it was also out of the cold.”

“Maybe we can find you a job at the hospital in Leningrad. You could study and become a nurse or even a doctor if you want,” Gleb said enthusiastically. Anya thought about this and then laughed.

“Well, I don’t know about that, I’m not the best with looking at wounds, but I’ll keep thinking about it,” she said and smiled at him. He nodded. He would make sure that she wasn’t dreaming about this for nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote the Gleb/Anya scene so many times. I hope you enjoyed their slightly fluffy moment, but either way things are about to get a lot bumpier for everyone. :)


	6. It's Fate That Brought Us Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vlad (yes, he is still in this story) and Gleb have unexpected guests.

Vlad sat alone in the room he and Dmitry shared. Three of his handkerchiefs lay crumpled and used before him. There was an empty beer bottle on the table. He had limited himself to one - he needed to be alert in case Dmitry needed him - but he had to take the edge off somehow. Alone, with nothing to do, he had been weeping. He shouldn’t have let Dmitry go. No, he should have gone with Dmitry. No, he should never have let Dmitry talk them into this scheme to begin with. No-

There was a knock at the door and a muffled voice.

“Just a moment Your Majesty, I’ll make sure she’s ready to receive you.” It was Lily. He was horrified. Here? Now? Disaster! He picked up the soiled handkerchiefs and tossed them under the bed. The door creaked open; he had left it unlocked for Dmitry. Lily walked in.

“Vlad, Her Majesty is here to see the girl you brought. Is she presentable? I hope she’s the real deal Vlad,” Lily said, sweeping into the room. She looked around and realized Vlad was alone. “Well? Where is she, another room?”

“She-” Vlad found himself unable to continue. Tears stung at his eyes again. Lily was really looking at him now.

“What on earth happened?” Lily asked, crossing to him. He shook his head, feeling unable to speak. “Vlad. Get a hold of yourself.” He shook his head, and moaned.

“I can’t, I can’t, I ca-” She slapped him.

“The Bolsheviks. They sent someone after us. He took her, from the ballet,” Vlad choked out. Lily’s eyes went wide.

“They sent someone here? To arrest her? They don’t have the jurisdiction!” Lily exclaimed. “That’s not their normal style at all. They prefer luring people back into Russia, like my poor husband, God rest his soul.” Vlad shrugged helplessly.

“I’ve seen him before in Russia, he’s definitely working for them,” Vlad said, finally starting to regain composure. “He had a gun with him Lily, I think- what if he’s going to kill her, Lily,” Vlad said, his voice edged with desperation.

“Well. We cannot allow that,” an authoritative elderly female voice cut in. Vlad turned in surprise. The Empress was walking into the room. He stood up, and bowed. She nodded. “I wouldn’t dream of giving the Bolsheviks the satisfaction of thinking they’re getting a second chance at killing my granddaughter.” She paused in thought for a moment. “Even if she is a fake. I don’t suppose you know where he’s taken her.”

“Dmitry ran off to find her - he said he would check in. I’ll check at the front desk to see if they’ve heard anything.” He started to rush toward the door, then remembered his manners, “please make yourselves comfortable.” Vlad bowed as elegantly as he could muster before bolting downstairs, purpose renewed.

* * *

Gleb sat at the writing desk trying to focus on writing his reports. He had told Anya to try and sleep. She was now tucked into his bed, curled up and facing the wall. He was glad he could give her that. No bed for three years! Much to his chagrin, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He was resolved to sleep on the floor. He could not allow himself be so easily overcome by affection for this girl. He forced himself to write another sentence of his report. His mind began to wander back to Anya, but was interrupted when he heard a soft knock at the door.

Gleb frowned. This was an odd hour for visitors, nor should anyone know he was here. He picked up the gun off the desk and held it at his side, then opened the door a crack. A tall blonde woman in a maid uniform was standing outside.

“I’m here to collect your dishes,” the maid said sweetly in French, “may I come in?” Gleb felt both relieved and irritated. This was quite late.

“Just a moment, I’ll bring it to you,” he said, keeping his voice low in hopes of not waking Anya. He turned away from the door, opening the desk drawer to put the gun inside. He heard the door close behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see the maid had let herself in and was looking over the state of the room quite thoroughly. Gleb noticed the handcuffs were still visibly attached to the bedpost near the sleeping Anya, as was her elegant blue dress now draped across the foot of the bed. It suddenly struck him that this scene could be interpreted in multiple ways, and that it certainly must look like something improprietous had happened. He felt a blush creeping on the back of his neck. He was sure he didn’t want to know what the maid was imagining.

“I said I’d bring it to you,” Gleb said, not hiding his irritation now. He picked up the tray and pressed it towards her. The maid returned her attention to Gleb and smiled, not taking it.

“Spring is almost upon us,” the maid said, as if making small talk, but she had said it in Russian. Gleb gave her a sharp look. Well, well, this was unexpected.

“Yes, there is much work to be done before the autumn harvest,” Gleb responded, giving the maid a once over of his own.

“True, but many hands make light work.” The maid’s smile deepened. Gleb put down the tray.

“Then I’m glad we have each other to rely on,” Gleb said, finishing the verbal handshake. “What brings you to me? I assume this is not a coincidence.” Gleb clasped his hands behind his back, taking a more military posture. The maid disregarded this and leaned informally against the door. She considered this question for a moment.

“I don’t work here as a maid if that’s what you mean, but it is a coincidence. You might even call it fate.” She seemed amused by this. Gleb felt impatient. He tapped his foot and waited for her to get to the point.

“I was returning to my hotel when I met a young Russian man in a tizzy because a young woman had been kidnapped. He was apparently intent on searching every hotel in Paris until he found her while barely speaking a word of French. It was quite sweet.” The maid gave a half laugh at this. “I was trying to help him out, and then he let on that it was one of us who had taken her, and I thought I’d do you a good turn by making sure you got the drop on him.” Her smile faded as she continued. “Unfortunately the hotel managers are now involved, and intend on calling the police if they think you’re her kidnapper. I don’t suppose you have France’s approval for this arrest?”

Gleb took a moment to digest all this. “I don’t need their approval. Anya is coming back with me voluntarily. Isn’t that right, Anya?” If she had fallen asleep there was little chance she’d sleep through this. He turned to look at the bed. Anya was sitting up slowly.

“Yes. I want to go home,” Anya said. The maid raised her eyebrows in disbelief, and looked between the pair.

“Oh. So this _is_ you just running off with some guy he didn’t like,” the maid said, looking disappointed. Gleb and Anya glanced at each other, confused.

“What?” Anya said.

“Anya has been accused of serious crime and is showing her loyalty by returning of her own free will,” Gleb said with a touch of pride. The maid gave him a skeptical look.

“And I suppose she’s really innocent and it’s the fault of the boy waiting downstairs?” the maid said. Anya winced. Gleb gave the maid his best military poker face. “On that subject, what would you like me to do with him?” Gleb saw Anya’s eyes flick to him full of anxiety. Surely she couldn’t still care for that man after everything he’d done to her. He felt something inside him snap.

“He must be brought to justice, of course,” Gleb said firmly. The maid seemed satisfied with that answer.

“And you’ll have French cooperation in that … arrest?” she asked politely. There was an awkward silence, as Gleb didn’t meet her eyes. He felt suddenly very uncertain; maybe he should just send the boy away and not deal with the added complication of an unwilling prisoner. Anya was the only one he really needed. The maid grimaced. “Well, that makes this difficult, doesn’t it? I shouldn’t linger here much longer, they might get suspicious.” Gleb considered this for a moment. No, he couldn’t let this man go. Then he crossed to the desk, and pulled out the gun.

“There’s a park near here, right on the river. Contrive to bring him there and I’ll take care of the rest,” Gleb said stoney-faced, checking the chamber in his gun.

“Is that the justice of our Russia now? A bullet to the head with no trial, no chance to defend himself?” Anya said in low voice with more strength and conviction than Gleb had ever seen from her. Here it was again, an undercurrent of power; were these questions childlike innocence or something more sinister? Gleb regarded her curiously, carefully putting down the gun.

“Some things are necessary for the greater good of the revolution, Anya,” Gleb said calmly. Anya stood up.

“The revolution is over, Gleb! Do you remember the first thing you ever said to me? ‘Those. Days. Are. Over.’ There has to be a different way, or what was the point of any of it?” Anya’s eyes blazed as she squarely met his gaze. Doing this in front of a member of the Cheka was a poor decision, he couldn’t permit this to continue. Gleb stepped closer so she was forced to look up to keep eye contact.

“The revolution is never over, especially when men like him insist on dragging us back into the past, trying to pass you off as Romanov. We buried that past, and he’s trying to claw it back up from it’s grave. That is treason, Anya! We both know the punishment for that!” Gleb took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. Anya still hadn’t looked away, but he could see her resolve weakening. He gently put his hands on her shoulders. Keeping his voice even, with just a hint of his anger creeping through, he said “think, Anya. Unless you’ve lied to me and he’s the innocent one, a bullet to the head is exactly what he would get. Your testimony convinced me. I’m sure it could convince any judge.” Anya flinched and finally dropped her gaze. “Why put off the inevitable?” Gleb pressed. Anya looked up again.  
“Would it have been inevitable if he hadn’t shown up here tonight?” Anya asked. Gleb’s grip tightened on her shoulders.

“Why are you protecting him, Anya?” Gleb snapped, shaking her a little. Anya’s shoulders drooped.

“I don’t know,” she said, looking lost. She thought for a moment. “I just- I don’t want his blood on my hands. He doesn’t deserve to die for this,” Anya said, sounding defeated. Gleb softened a little. Of course she didn’t; she was so innocent. The duties of a soldier were a burden not everyone could bear.

“I’m sorry, Anya,” he said sincerely, “but death is the punishment for treason.” She didn’t respond, staring angrily at the floor instead. Another push was needed then. “I don’t want to hear another word against this Anya. Consider this your first test of loyalty.” Anya looked up at him in horror. He felt his heart tighten. He hadn’t wanted to put her through this, but she needed to learn to do what’s necessary if she was to survive her trials back in Russia. The maid cleared her throat.

“Well, as much as I’m enjoying spectating this little scene, I should really get back downstairs.” The maid was still leaning against the door, seeming amused if anything at what she had just witnessed. “If I may interject, I have a proposal.”


	7. It’s What You’ve Come to Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dowager Empress gets curious about Anya. Dmitry continues to be impulsive.

The Dowager Empress sat in the hotel room, trying not to let the awkwardness of the silence get to her. Lily had gone downstairs to see which members in her White Russian conspiracy were still awake and able to come help. The Empress had been left alone with the false Count. The Empress folded her hands on her cane a bit uncomfortably. She didn’t like this man. She wasn’t sure she should even be helping these people out. But after the horror of losing her own family, and more than a few friends, she would do what she could to help this girl and take one small thing from the Bolsheviks. She glanced over at the fake Count. He was sitting quietly, staring at the table in obvious distress.

“Tell me about this girl,” the Empress commanded. Vlad looked up startled.

“What would you like to know?” Vlad asked at a loss.  _ Is she really my granddaughter.  _ Really, that was hardly the artful answer she expected from this man. The Empress pursed her lips. She didn’t want to come right out and ask, she would seem weak and desperate. She shouldn’t even be considering this, and yet if the Bolsheviks seemed so determined to get this girl, then maybe there was a chance.

“What kind of person is she?” she asked instead. She watched him from the corner of her eye wanting to seem aloof.

“She’s charming. The kind of person who can walk into a room and speak to anyone,” Vlad said, getting more into a storyteller cadence. The Empress nodded dully, she had plenty of charming ‘Anastasias.’ Vlad continued, a little more wistfully. “She’s very brave. You know, she was the first one to jump off the train when the Bolshevik guards were going to arrest and probably shoot us. She’s proud and strong, won’t take disrespect from anyone. Dmitry said she helped him fight off a group of ruffians in the back streets of Petersburg.” His smile was fading. The Empress could feel her heart beating. Strong, brave, not afraid of anything. Her favorite. She tried to push it down; plenty of people possessed those traits. It wasn’t enough.

“I don’t understand why she didn’t try and fight him,” Vlad said, interrupting her reverie. “She just let him take her away.” She wasn’t sure what he meant. She decided to ignore it.

“Where did you find her?” she prodded him. Vlad was pulled back to present. He looked at her uncertainly. She frowned. “As I’ve said, I’ll help even if she is an imposter. Be honest. Please,” she said, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice in that final word.  He seemed to consider this for a moment more before letting out a sigh.

“She found us. She was living as a street sweeper in Petersburg and heard we were the best way to get to Paris,” Vlad said distantly as if living in memories. The Empress frowned, so this girl was just trying to escape Russia, not her granddaughter then. She sagged a little. He continued. “She was desperate to get here. You see, she has amnesia, starting about ten years ago. The one thing she thought she remembered was that she had to find her family in Paris.” He gave the empress a significant look; she raised an eyebrow. So he was still trying to say this girl was her granddaughter. This sounded like a tall tale, but it was at the very least a tale she hadn’t heard before. “She said she was found near Pern, which as I’m sure Your Majesty knows is only a few dozen miles outside of Yekaterinburg.” The Empress looked away.  It was as if the handle on the door she had closed in her heart was starting to turn, but she couldn’t open herself up again. Why was she even listening to this? She really could not allow herself to hope. Especially not on the words of a known conman. She clutched her staff harder.

“May I be frank, Your Majesty?” Vlad asked. She nodded, curious what he would say.

“When this started, we … didn’t believe Anya was really Anastasia,” Vlad said seriously. The Empress watched him with interest. She would be in for an interesting twist certainly. His expression remained serious, intent. 

“But as I taught her about Russian nobility, strange things happened. There were things she already knew. How to speak french, how to dance, how to bow. Things she never remembered learning. Occasional bits of trivia about Russian nobles that I hadn’t taught her. And she was found with a diamond on her. It’s how we were able to buy the papers to escape.” The diamond caught her off guard. The Empress’ hands were shaking, her cane rattling on the floor a little. Could it really be? “There are a few dozen little coincidences like those, and I can’t say with certainty your Majesty, but I have come to believe she really could be Anastasia.” 

She stared into his face. She could not detect any deception. A chance then. She had a chance, and to her chagrin she felt the door she had so carefully closed in her heart flung open again, hope pouring back unbidden. 

* * *

Dmitry paced back and forth in the small room while the hotel manager looked on. He’d thought the waiting a few hours ago was painful. This was one million times worse. He should have gone with Oxana. He was still trying to figure out how he had let this uninvolved woman talk him into waiting passively while she took on all the risk. 

What would he do if Anya wasn’t here? It would be back to square one, and it was getting late. Hotel desks would stop being manned. He had no idea how fast the Soviets would be able to take Anya out of Paris, but he couldn’t imagine they would take their time. He wouldn’t let himself think that she could already be dead. 

Dmitry had too much energy pent up. He was scared. He was angry. He wanted to strike out at something. He kept pacing.

What would he do if Anya  _ was _ here? Vlad said the man had a gun. Dmitry may have joked about his fists, but, as Oxana said, getting shot in the head as soon as he opened the door wouldn’t do Anya any good. Police were too risky. He could try and call in Vlad, between the two of them they could probably come up with some con. Probably.

Oxana was taking a long time. Even the manager was frowning while checking his watch. Dmitry was on the verge of running upstairs when Oxana finally walked calmly back through the door. She gave Dmitry a pitying look, then said something in French to the manager. The manager gave a short bark of laughter and then replied. The manager got up and gave Dmitry a consoling shoulder pat and then walked past, waving. 

“What?” Dmitry asked. Oxana ignored him and instead stopped the manager, and it sounded like she was asking for a room. The manager replied dubiously and Oxana gave him a disarming smile and shrug. The manager shrugged back and walked toward the desk. Oxana had a satisfied smile on her face as the manager retreated.

“What is going on?” Dmitry said again, angrier this time. He was not in the mood for games. Oxana turned to him, her expression now serious. “It’s not her then?”

“It’s her,” Oxana said seriously. Dmitry felt punched in the gut and his heart started to race. 

“I told the manager that it was all a misunderstanding and your girl had run off with another man.” A smile pulled at the corner of her lips, but the serious expression returned. “They were feeling very chatty while I was there. It’s actually mostly true. She is going with him willingly, Dmitry.”

“What!?” Dmitry almost shouted. “No. No! It must be an act. Or she’s confused. Or you’re confused!” At that moment the manager walked back in with a book and a key. He chuckled at Dmitry and gave him another friendly pat as Oxana took the key and gestured for Dmitry to sign. 

“What’s this for?” Dmitry asked, fuming. 

“It’s for the room, go ahead, sign your name. I want to be able to continue to hang around without it being suspicious,” Oxana said. Dmitry took the book and pen and signed. He was reeling. Anya could not be going back to Russia willingly. Then the manager said something a little more serious to Dmitry that he couldn’t understand.

“The manager said he’s trusting you to not start any fights,” Oxana interpreted. She seemed to be holding back a smirk. Dmitry looked at Oxana a little dumbly for a moment and then back at the manager’s expectant face. He nodded slowly. The manager nodded and headed out.

“In any case, I think we both agree that going back to Russia is a bad decision for this girl to make,” Oxana said evenly. Dmitry took a deep breath. He needed to be calm if he was going to rescue her. “You must understand that this man is extremely dangerous, and she has seemingly made a choice to go with him. If you want to back out now, I’ll understand. So I’m going to ask you again. Are you willing to risk everything for this girl?”

“Yes,” Dmitry said without hesitation this time. Oxana nodded slowly, a satisfied smile on her lips.

“Good. Alright, here’s the plan. We go up to the room, I knock on the door and announce myself. I’ll say I forgot to give them their hot water bottle. Then when the door opens you rush in and tackle the officer before he can get out his gun. I’ll drag out Anya, and you get out of there after making sure that man can’t follow in hurry. It’s still risky. A lot could go wrong, but I think it’s our best shot,” Oxana finished matter of factly. Dmitry blinked in surprise.

“Where did you learn to plan like that?” he asked. Another smile twitched at Oxana’s lips. She shrugged modestly. Dmitry ran through the plan in his mind. It seemed solid enough. A small part of his brain said this was too impulsive, but he was done waiting. Anya needed him now. “Let’s go,” he said, walking toward the stairs.

“She may resist going with me, Dmitry. If it comes to that I’ll need you to say whatever it takes to get her to come with,” Oxana said, resting her hand on his shoulder. Dmitry nodded, although he couldn’t really imagine Anya not having the sense to take an escape when it presented itself. “One more thing, if something goes wrong, just remember, no matter how it looks trust that I’m really on your side.” Oxana then overtook him, leading the way, still in the maid uniform and carrying her purse. 

Oxana stopped in front of a door. She looked at Dmitry, hand raised to knock, waiting for his ready. Dmitry swung his arms to loosen them, and got ready to run in. He nodded at her. She knocked.

“Pardon me, but I have a hot water bottle for you,” Oxana called in French, immediately getting behind Dmitry. Dmitry was poised to spring. He heard footsteps crossing the room. He heard the turning of the door handle. The moment he saw the door move he began to shove it open. 

The door offered no resistance. He stumbled in. His eyes took in the room in a flash. 

A sparkling blue dress on a chair. 

Anya handcuffed to the bedpost, face pressed into her hands, in … men’s pajamas? 

A gun. A gun pointed at him. He looked into the face of the man holding the gun, and for a moment he recognized him from the streets of Petersburg.

Then there was a sudden sharp pain at the back of his head. Dmitry crumpled to the floor, his vision going black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very excited to land the next chapter - I'll try not to keep you waiting too long :D


	8. Everything I Wanted Suddenly Unclear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shit Gets Real™

They were going to kill Dmitry. Oxana had helpfully proposed a quiet death that would look like a suicide. She said she’d set it up with the manager to make him look like a jilted lover. Anya had stood in mute horror as they discussed this. Her first test of loyalty.

“I agree he needs to face justice,” Anya had started cautiously the moment the door shut behind Oxana. “But please, give him the same chance you gave me. I’m begging you, just give him the chance to come quietly.” Gleb had stared at her in silence for a moment. He let out a short sigh.

“Fine. But this is my last allowance, Anya. When he comes in you will sit on that bed and not interfere. You will not speak,” Gleb said. Anya could see something dangerous in his eyes burning just below the surface. She had nodded and sat on the bed. He had taken her wrist and handcuffed it to the post a little roughly. Whatever goodwill she had built up with her initial willingness and their conversations in the room had apparently eroded with her defense of Dmitry. She had the sinking feeling that she was was getting low marks on her first test.

She really didn’t know why she was sticking her neck out for Dmitry given everything he’d put her through. Her heart squeezed thinking about him. She hadn’t even considered that Vlad and Dmitry would be able to find her, and now Dmitry was here to rescue her. Idiot. She had made up her mind about going back to Russia, and now he was going to get himself and possibly her killed. 

Gleb was standing with his gun ready, and Anya knew, despite everything, she had to try and save Dmitry; he was trying to save her, wasn’t he? She hoped her plea to Gleb would be enough; between the handcuffs and the gun she felt as if she could barely breathe.

When she heard the knock on the door she had hidden behind her hands, not wanting to watch what would come next. She heard the door swing open. She heard a sharp crack. She heard a soft thump. She heard the soft moving of fabric as people shuffled around. She heard the door shut. Anya felt a rush of adrenaline. Was she going to be able to walk this line: keep Gleb from killing Dmitry, and stay in his good graces? She felt her panic start to turn to tears. She didn’t want to watch him die. She tried and failed to suppress a sob.

“Oh, stop sniveling - look he’s already waking up,” Oxana said, entirely unsympathetic. Anya looked up, wiping away tears. Gleb had been prepared; a second pair of handcuffs was already on Dmitry, holding his hands behind his back. Gleb was standing over him now, gun in hand. Dmitry was blinking, dazed, on the floor. Oxana was back to leaning nonchalantly on the door, arms crossed.

Anya watched anxiously as Gleb hauled Dmitry up by the shoulder and leaned him against the desk. If she was honest with herself, and she really didn’t want to be, she didn’t have much hope Dmitry would come quietly. He was an agitator at heart and proud. She had admired him for it. Dmitry groaned, looking around blearily. His eyes found her.

“Anya! Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” he asked, trying to get up and failing miserably. Gleb chuckled, pushing him back against the desk with his foot. 

“Anya is fine. No thanks to you,” Gleb said coldly. 

“It’s true, just do what he tells you and-” Anya started. Gleb silenced her with another glance, his eyes full of warning. She looked at the floor. Her heart was pounding. Things were not off to a great start.

She glanced back up at Dmitry, who still seemed to be in shock. Dmitry looked around, disoriented. She had to stay calm and think. She saw a hairpin still on the bed. No one was looking at her. She casually put her hand over it and curled her fist around it. Escaping from her handcuffs now would help no one, but perhaps there’d be time later. She put her hands together on her lap and stuck one up her sleeve.

Dmitry looked from Gleb to the gun, and then he turned to see Oxana leaning against the door. “Why-”

“Remember what I told you?” Oxana said, raising her eyebrows, “you can never know who’s on your side. You’re too trusting for your own good.” Dmitri looked confused. She grinned at him. Anya didn’t know who this woman was or why she was doing what she was doing, but she hated her.

Gleb crouched in front of Dmitry and grabbed his chin roughly, turning Dmitry’s face toward himself. Dmitry tried to jerk his head out of Gleb’s grip but was already backed against the desk. Anya cringed in sympathy as he bumped the back of his head a second time.

“I’m going to give you a chance. If you cooperate, I will make sure you get back to Russia in one piece where you will face a fair trial. If not, well, I have no qualms ending a traitor’s life sooner than later,” Gleb said. 

“Eh? What happened to hanging him in the other room to make it look like a suicide?” Oxana broke in. Dmitry’s eyes widened and flicked toward Oxana. Gleb looked at her coolly.

“If he’s willing to cooperate, I see no reason to deny him a trial,” Gleb said, “your way is of course the alternative.” He turned his gaze back at Dmitry pointedly. Oxana shrugged, and leaned back against the door. She seemed to be lost in thought. Anya could only guess at what. Anya tried to catch Dmitry’s eye, trying to nod in a way to tell him to do it. She saw his eyes flick to her, then to Oxana, and then back to Gleb. His face hardened.

“There are no fair trials in Russia,” Dmitry said. Then he spat in Gleb’s face. 

“No!” Anya shouted, forgetting Gleb’s order of silence. Gleb’s fist connected with Dmitry’s face hard. Oxana sucked in her breath.

“That’s going to make a suicide look less plausible,” Oxana murmured.    
  
“As opposed to your hit to the back of his head?” Gleb stood up - Anya could only imagine his expression - and slowly wiped the spit from his face. 

“Well, yes, one hit could be dismissed as some other accident,” Oxana retorted. Dmitry spat a little blood onto the floor, his bottom lip split, but looked grimly satisfied. Anya glared at Dmitry. He was too damn stubborn to save his own life. Gleb redirected his attention to Dmitry.

“I imagine justice does look unfair to a criminal too stupid to see the beauty and opportunity of  _ honest _ labor in our new Russia,” Gleb said. Dmitry went quiet for a moment. Anger colored his face.

“I used to believe in a new Russia,” Dmitry said quietly, bitterly, “I thought ‘Finally! A group wants to bring equality for everyone.’ I thought that right until the moment when I found out that the Communists were killing the Anarchists who fought with them. The Tsars may have locked my father up in a labor camp, but it was your people who killed him!” Dmitry’s voice was rough. Gleb had gone very quiet. Anya felt horrified; she’d never put together that his father had been taken under the Tsar’s regime. It felt as if it should be obvious now, Dmitry would have been a man by the time the Communists were in power. Dmitry was glaring in defiance now.

“What’s so new about Russia now anyway? Arrests and labor camps. Drudgery for some ‘greater power.’ New name, same place. New men in power using the same farmers and laborers the same way, while pigs like you get fat-” Gleb’s foot connected with Dmitry’s stomach. Oxana sighed. Dmitry doubled over and began to cough, more blood hitting the floor. 

“Please, Gleb, he doesn’t know what he’s saying-” 

“I thought I told you to be quiet, Anya,” Gleb said, rounding on her. Anya felt herself shrinking away.

“I-I’m sorry. I-” she stuttered. Anya felt terrified and alone. She could see she was dangerously close to completely falling off the line of saving Dmitry and appeasing Gleb. Gleb let out a sigh, and she saw a little of his anger cool. Gleb seemed to search for something to say. 

“He’s a traitor, Anya,” Gleb said finally. With the same hand he had just used to brutalize Dmitry, Gleb tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek. “Stop trying to protect him.” Anya nodded, too frightened to do anything else.

“I’m sorry,” she said again and leaned her head against his hand. If she was going to keep Gleb on her side she needed to keep him thinking she was on his. Not that she was sure there was even a side for her to be on anymore. She glanced at Dmitry and saw him watching this exchange with horror. She felt heat rise to her cheeks. Gleb followed her gaze back to Dmitry and then laughed scornfully.

“Does this … upset you?” he asked, stroking Anya’s hair again for Dmitry’s benefit. It clearly did. She looked up at Gleb who looked down at her. There was something in his eyes now she didn’t understand. His finger traced her jawline, tilting her head up and she felt a chill run down her spine.

“Don’t touch her.” Dmitry kicked out at Gleb who easily dodged. He laughed again. Anya glared at Dmitry; she wanted them both to survive and he seemed to have a death wish. Gleb’s eyes glittered dangerously, and he began to raise the gun. Anya grabbed Gleb’s arm in panic; he pulled it out of her grip roughly. Oxana coughed loudly. The scene froze as everyone turned to look at her.

“If the prisoner isn’t going to cooperate, perhaps it would be best if the young lady wasn’t present,” Oxana said pleasantly. Gleb frowned. Dmitry looked thoughtful. Anya felt panicked. She couldn’t let Gleb be alone with Dmitry. She was Dmitry’s only chance of getting out of here. 

“And where exactly would you propose taking her?” Gleb asked. Oxana smiled disarmingly. 

“To my hotel naturally. I’m ready to go to sleep and besides it’s probably safer to keep the prisoners far apart. Don’t you think? Your girl seems determined to get in the way,” Oxana said. Gleb narrowed his eyes, considering this.

“And I can get her some proper clothing. Taking her on the train in such a fancy evening dress or this … outfit would draw quite a lot of unnecessary attention,” Oxana added.

“I won’t go back to Russia quietly, so do what you have to do to me, but don’t make Anya watch. She’s innocent in this, she shouldn’t be here,” Dmitry cut in suddenly. 

“Dmitry! What are you saying-” Anya looked at him aghast but was cut off when Gleb suddenly grabbed her roughly by the arm, pulling her to her feet. Gleb looked from her to Dmitry, then nodded slowly. 

“Get her some clothes, and whatever you need for yourself and then bring her back. I should be finished here by then,” Gleb said. Anya started shaking her head. No. Gleb’s fingers dug into her arm, and when his eyes met hers this time the anger was no longer beneath the surface. She froze, she couldn’t breathe.

“And what, sleep in a room with a hanging corpse? No thank you. She can just stay with me overnight,” Oxana said.

“You can feel free to drop her off and go back to your hotel, if you’re not interested in sleeping here, but I’m not letting her out of my sight a moment longer than necessary.” Gleb’s voice offered no room for argument. His hand was very tight around her arm now. She wanted to fight, but every word she’d said had seemed to worsen both her and Dmitry’s chance of survival. Oxana sighed and shrugged.

“I’m here to help. I’ll bring her back tonight if it’s so important. Shouldn’t take more than an hour or two to get back and forth and gather what we need,” Oxana said, resigned.

Gleb nodded approvingly and picked up his jacket and pulled the handcuff key from it’s pocket. He unlocked her wrist. She felt tears in her eyes now. He put his finger under her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. His expression was stern but tempered with pity.

“Anya,” Gleb said, gently, “go with Oxana. I don’t want to hear any reports of you giving her trouble. Remember this is your chance to prove your loyalty,” He sounded like he was trying to be encouraging. Anya was shaking. This couldn’t be how it ended. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #notsorry 
> 
> Also if you noticed I bumped the chapter count, it's because the sections that were meant for this chapter got so long I decided to split them up. I want to savor this part for as long as possible anyway.


	9. Love is Not What Revolution's For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dmitry and Gleb have a talk about feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read that there was a large crackdown on Anarchists in Russia during the year 1909. Anastasia turned 8 that year. ...Does anyone else feel like they really undersold how angsty Dmitry's backstory is?

_ It was June. He was 10. He was climbing a tree on the outskirts of St. Petersburg while his father talked with other men about something he wasn’t allowed to know about. He had tried to eavesdrop and heard something about the Tsar coming to Petersburg but had been shooed away. He was well into the branches when he saw the soldiers marching up to the house. They were armed. Dmitry knew what this meant. He’d watched with terror as the soldiers took positions surrounding the house. He wanted to cry out a warning, but his voice was caught in his throat. He watched as the soldiers entered the building and then dragged out the men, his father included, shooting the few who tried to run.  _

_ He had stayed hidden like a coward. Part of him would never forgive himself for that even as he knew there was nothing he could have done. His father had spared one glance for the tree he was hiding in. There was an apology in his eyes. Then he was gone. Forever. That night he had gone back to their empty house, a shack really, laid in his father’s bed, and cried himself to sleep. _

_ Dmitry wasn’t angry then, but it would come. Dmitry had pleaded with his father just weeks before to give this up. _

_ “Why don’t you just stop, Papa? I don’t want you to get killed.” He had pulled on his father’s arm and tried to keep him from leaving for yet another late night meeting. His father had gently pulled his arms away. _

_ “There are some things you can’t stop, no matter what. Some things are worth dying for Dima.” Dmitry hadn’t understood then, and after his father was taken he was quite sure that his father had been wrong. Both Dmitry and his father had lost their family, their home, the one person they loved, and nothing changed for the better. In fact, after his father was taken, Dmitry had sworn off the notion of dying for a cause. He would spit in the face of authority, sure, but he wouldn’t claim it was for some greater good. He would dodge and hide and scrape a living for himself. No grandstanding he’d seen in his life had helped anyone.  _

Dmitry chafed against his handcuffs. He could feel the blood in his mouth and an ache in his stomach where he’d been kicked. His head still wasn’t entirely clear. The Bolsheviks were sick. This one in particular it seemed. Dmitry could hardly bear to look at the scene: Gleb’s finger under Anya’s chin. Anya trembling, frightened and hesitating. He had to get her out of here.

‘Say whatever you have to to get her to go with me. No matter what it looks like, remember I’m on your side.’ Oxana’s last words to him before they entered the room floated through his mind. He didn’t like it, but despite everything he was going to put his faith in Oxana; it was literally the only hope he had for Anya now. 

“Do it, Anya. I don’t want you here,” Dmitry said, hoping it would push her out the door. Anya turned with a start. “Have some respect for a dead man’s final wish,” Dmitry said, not meeting her eyes. Anya stared at him in horror, trembling. Gleb gave him a measured look.

“You heard him Anya. Now will you go with Oxana?” Gleb said almost gently. Dmitry felt nauseous. The sooner Anya was away from this man the better. He tried not to let himself think what Gleb may have already done to her as the sparkling blue dress on the chair next to him caught his eye.

“Please let me try and talk to him. Or, at least, say goodbye.” Anya said, her voice sounding high with panic. Dmitry ground his teeth. 

“Just go-”

“A goodbye-”

Dmitry and Gleb both began at once and stopped short, looking at each other, startled. Anya took this permission and immediately knelt next to Dmitry. Gleb looked like he was about to object when Oxana started to say something to him. Anya looked at Dmitry, her brow furrowed in concern. He felt his heart give a squeeze.

“I suppose there’s no use trying to convince you to change your mind?” Anya asked without much hope. 

“Just go, Anya.” He wondered if this was how his father felt when he was arrested. Knowing he would be killed, knowing he may never see the one person he loved again.  _ Some things are worth dying for. _ He never wanted to die for a cause, but saving a person … that was something else.   

“You  _ are _ the stubbornest person I’ve ever met,” Anya said. She gave him a sad smile and he gave her a weak smile back. He felt his heart sinking. Was this the last time he’d see her? He never got to tell her...

“I want you to know. That, well, I forgive you for everything,” Anya said, apparently trying to make a joke, but it she sounded too sad for it to really land. He swallowed hard. He didn’t know what to say. There was so much, and yet all he could do was stare. She put her arms around him. He wished he could return the hug. It was awkward, but it was everything. She stayed there for a moment and he felt her shaking. Gleb and Oxana’s conversation drifted over them. It sounded like they were exchanging rank and commanding officer. 

Anya started to pull away, and as she did he felt something cool, thin, and metallic fall onto one of his hands. He caught it. It was a hairpin. He felt hope flutter in his breast, although he tried to quickly stop it from showing on his face. His heart was pounding. It was a small chance at freedom, but the odds were still stacked heavily against him. As her face came into view he decided to take his chance.

“I love you, Anya,” he whispered: a thank you, a confession. He wished he could pull her into his arms and kiss her and take her far, far away from this man. He wished he had kissed her last night. He watched for her response. She was frozen. She stared at him with a mix of emotions: confusion, surprise, sadness. She didn’t say it back.

“Alright that’s enough,” Gleb said, reaching down and pulling Anya to her feet. She stumbled. Dmitry stared up at Anya and felt his heart tighten. She wasn’t looking at him now but at the floor. Dmitry hung his head. He’d said it. At least she knew. Perhaps it was better if she didn’t return it. He had sworn he wouldn’t abandon people who mattered by throwing his life away, but if she didn’t love him then there wasn’t anyone for him to abandon. In retrospect he’d really just tried to keep himself from having people that mattered. Oxana quickly put an arm around Anya’s shoulder.

“Well, you can’t go outside in that. Let’s get you back into your dress. You know, another advantage of you coming with me is I can get you some proper sleepwear,” Oxana said cheerfully. She picked up the blue dress and then pulled Anya towards the bathroom. The door clicked behind them. 

Gleb and Dmitry were left alone. Dmitry could feel a drop of blood running down his chin but could do nothing to wipe it away. Dmitry wondered if his father would be proud of him or if doing this to save a girl would have been beneath his father’s expectations. He supposed he’d be able to ask his father soon. If he didn’t do anything. He closed his fist around the hairpin and glanced around the room. He hadn’t run out of options yet. His first concern was getting Anya out of here, but he wouldn’t go down without a fight. 

Gleb walked with his hands clasped behind his back to the armoire, opened it up and began digging through a suitcase inside. When he came back he had a rope in his hands and what Dmitry assumed was a cloth gag. The man travelled prepared; Dmitry had to give him that. Dmitry carefully set his face into a neutral position. He really did not want to die here, but he wanted to save Anya more. It was a strange new feeling, wanting that. He also definitely did not want this man to think he had him frightened. Gleb placed the objects on the bed where Dmitry could easily see them. 

“Dragging a girl into committing treason is a funny way to show your love,” Gleb said coldly. Dmitry looked up and scoffed; he hadn’t missed the tender tones directed at Anya.

“Dragging a girl back to Russia to face charges for treason is a funny way to show yours,” Dmitry said flatly. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gleb glared. The man was actually blushing. Dmitry raised an eyebrow. Surely, this man realized what a terrible poker face he had? Dmitry suddenly felt himself flashing back to a exchange he’d had with Vlad just a couple days ago where he’d said something eerily similar. Denial was a powerful thing. As was the desire to punch this man square in the jaw. Dmitry decided to push him further.

“What do you think is going to happen when you get back to Russia? You really think you can save her from that viper’s nest? I’ll take my ... punishment, but she doesn’t deserve this! Let her go free.” This seemed to strike a chord. Gleb sank down onto the bed, watching Dmitry thoughtfully. He picked up the rope and began toying with it.

“I can’t let either of you go, but if you really love her and will swear to her innocence, then there’s something you can do to help me save her from the ‘viper’s nest’ as you put it,” Gleb said. Dmitry shifted uncomfortably, not sure where this was going. “Come back with us to Russia, peacefully. At your trial and hers testify to Anya’s innocence. With that she’ll stand a strong chance of getting off cleanly because they’ll have someone else to blame.” Dmitry’s stomach turned at the thought. 

“Tell me, do you ‘love’ her enough to do that?” Gleb leaned in intently now. Dmitry blinked at this unexpected tack. “If not-” Gleb folded the rope in a manner suggesting a noose and then shrugged. Dmitry looked up, incredulous. 

“Do I love her enough? Is that a challenge? That’s really rich coming from you; if you really cared you would let her go,” Dmitry said. A vein was throbbing in Gleb’s forehead.

“I know my duty, and so does Anya,” Gleb said, controlling his temper with obvious effort, “I am helping her as best I can. Will you?” Dmitry bit back another remark. If Oxana was getting Anya out of here his answer was moot.

“So, to be clear, my options are die tonight, or get to live a little longer and help save Anya’s life,” Dmitry said. “Let me think about that carefully.” Dmitry paused for a half second. “I’ve thought it over and I’ll take your terms.” Gleb gave him a tight smile and a nod. Then he crouched next to Dmitry and began to tie up his feet with the rope. Dmitry decided not to resist this time.

This was good, quite good actually. Oxana would take Anya away and he’d have more time to escape. He worked the pin up his sleeve, careful not to draw attention toward it.

The door to the bathroom opened. Oxana was looking like she was holding back laughter as she looked at the two of them. Anya looked anxiously at Gleb. She was back in the dress, but now her hair was falling around her in soft waves, and, for a brief moment, Dmitry forgot his circumstances and felt overwhelmed by her beauty a second time.

“You’re taking him with us?” she said, sounding afraid to hope. He could see Gleb’s face soften into a smile as he turned toward Anya. Dmitry started to wonder what had Anya done to this man to win him over so thoroughly.

“Yes. If he continues to cooperate,” Gleb said. Anya looked overcome and rushed to Gleb, throwing her arms around his neck. Dmitry started to wonder if Gleb had won her over.

“Thank you,” she whispered. She went on tiptoes to kiss Gleb’s cheek. Dmitry watched with disgust as Gleb overcame his surprise and put his arms around her. Dmitry was about to look away when Anya caught his eye. He was the only one who could see her face. She winked. His heart skipped a beat.

She was playing him? Dmitry pushed down a sudden urge to laugh. It all made sense now. His Anya was really something. They were going to save each other. It was a shame they hadn’t teamed up years ago; they could have pulled off some brilliant heists if she was this good. Anya turned away, resting her head on Gleb’s shoulder. Oxana yawned loudly. Gleb and Anya pulled apart.

“The sooner we go, the sooner we get back, the sooner we sleep,” Oxana said, looking bored. She walked to the door. Dmitry’s heart fluttered; Anya was almost home free.

“What was the name of your hotel, again?” Gleb asked, getting a pen and paper from the desk. Dmitry’s heart sank when she told him the name of her actual hotel. Was he wrong? Was she not going to save Anya? Oxana opened the door. “I’ll expect you back in one hour then,” Gleb said. Anya gave one last look at Dmitry.  

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Anya said, sounding resigned, then she was out the door. Gleb and Dmitry stared at the closed door for a moment in silence. Gleb put down the paper and raised a hand to his cheek. He looked happy. Dmitry wished he could punch the smile off his face.

A sudden wave of doubt overtook him. He should still try and escape, right? ‘Don’t do anything stupid’ was pretty vague; trying to escape could be considered stupid as much as staying when your captor had a gun and grudge. What if Anya wanted him to stick to the new arrangement? He was putting a lot of faith in Oxana, who had just told Gleb her actual location and had lured him up here and hit him over the head. Dmitry felt the hairpin against his wrist. If Oxana was getting Anya away then he should definitely try to escape himself, but if Oxana was really on Gleb’s side then Anya would still be going to Russia. If he returned he would die for sure, but Gleb was right, it might just save Anya.  _ Some things are worth dying for. _ He fingered the hairpin indecisively.

“While we’re waiting let’s get to work on your confession.” Gleb was standing over him, holding a pad of paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad you're still with me! I have a lot more written, but the rest is probably going to come as slowly as this most recent chapter - full time job + acting career = no time for writing :'(


	10. Things My Heart Yearns to Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya and Oxana back to the Oxana's hotel so do Vlad, Lily, and The Dowager Empress. Settle up because this is a long one!

Anya felt exhaustion setting in as she trailed after Oxana. Everything seemed settled for the short term. She hoped Dmitry wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks while she was gone. If Gleb was going to take Dmitry with them, Dmitry would have a much better chance waiting until everyone had gone to sleep.

Oxana led her onto the street, and Anya was lost in thought. Helping Dmitry escape made her wonder if she really ought to be trying to escape herself. Gleb talked quite convincingly about her future in Russia but, walking in the cool night air, suddenly it all seemed so unreal. She wondered what would happen if just tried running and shouting down the street right now. Would she be able to escape? She didn’t have the energy to try, and she couldn’t abandon Dmitry. She jumped when Oxana took her hand.

“We have only just met, Anya, but I already feel as if we have deep connection. I feel as if I would do anything to protect you.” Oxana stepped closer and tenderly laid a hand on Anya’s cheek, laughter dancing behind her eyes. “Forget those men, be my lover instead!” Anya pulled back irritated.

“That’s in poor taste,” Anya muttered, feeling embarrassed. Oxana chortled. Hearing them needle each other about loving her from the bathroom had been … uncomfortable, especially with Oxana making faces right next to her the entire time. Dmitry had told her he loved her. The thought weighed on her heavily; he really had the worst timing. She didn’t want that from either of them, not right now. She just wanted to make it through this night and the following nights alive. Although she supposed in Gleb’s case it was probably what was keeping her alive. She didn’t really want to think about that right now though. Her head ached, and her limbs felt heavy. Anya turned her attention to Oxana instead.

“Why are you doing all of this?” Anya asked. Oxana looked at her for a moment, considering, as she led them onto the street.

“Well, if your commissioner puts in a good word for me, I might just get a nice bonus and more permanent assignment in Paris. I rather like it here,” Oxana said.

“You’re doing this to get ahead?” Anya asked. She would have felt outraged if she’d had enough energy to spare on it.

“Sure. Isn’t that why anyone does anything?” Oxana said indifferently.

“Of course not! There’s love, duty, compassion. Wanting to make something better for not just yourself but everyone!” Anya felt disgust. Oxana shot her an amused glance.

“You sound just like the zealots back home. But tell me, how does "love" and "duty" fit in with you pretending to be a Romanov? Seems like trying to get ahead to me,” Oxana needled her. Anya felt her face flush with anger.

“I did it to find my family. To find out who I am! This has nothing to do with status,” Anya snapped back. Oxana’s face grew serious.

“What does that mean exactly?” Oxana said very slowly. “You talk as if you really could be her.” Oxana was watching her very intently now. Anya’s anger sputtered. She could hear the ice cracking under her feet.

“N-no. I, um, I was just fooling myself,” Anya tried to keep walking but Oxana grabbed her arm stopping her.

“And how exactly did you manage to fool yourself about something like that?” Oxana asked in a low voice. Her eyes were moving over Anya now, leaving no detail of her face unexamined.

“It doesn’t matter,” Anya said, trying to shrug it off.

“On the contrary,” Oxana said, a dangerous edge to her voice.

“I’ve already explained everything to Gleb, why don’t you ask him when we get back,” Anya said, trying not to flinch.

“If you’ve already explained it to him, why don’t you just tell me?” Oxana persisted.

“It’s a long story and I don’t want to tell it twice in one night,” Anya said a little defiantly. Oxana’s stare bore into her. Anya didn’t back down. Oxana finally nodded slowly.

“Alright. Later.” She let Anya’s arm go. They started walking again. After a moment Oxana spoke again. “Tell me something else, do you really, sincerely want go back to Russia? Vaganov might not be able to save you from whatever’s waiting for you. Knowing that you’d still return?” Anya considered it. She wasn’t stupid; she knew her odds of getting off easy were slim, but after years of chasing shadows halfway around the world in search of a home, she just wanted to stop. Finally she shrugged.

“Russia is my home,” Anya said simply.  Oxana shook her head.

“Well, far be it from me to dissuade you.” Oxana said. She spotted a cab on the street and hailed it. “Let’s get this over with.”

She and Anya got into the car. With nothing much else to occupy her as they rode Anya felt herself overtaken by sleep and in that by one of her nightmares.

She was in a small room, window painted black. A dog laid across her lap. She was petting him. A girl, she somehow knew as her sister, was napping. Anya looked around feeling uneasy. There was a knock at the door. It must be one of the new guards, her mind supplied. Yes, the guards had been changed; the old guards had been cruel, these new ones were simply distant.

“Come in,” she called. She didn’t want to move Tobi. Maria stirred and sat up. The door pushed open. Anya didn’t look up. She was afraid. A bag appeared on the bed beside her. She picked it up and opened it. There were cookies inside.

“From my wife. Don’t tell anyone,” an unfamiliar male voice said. Anya looked up.

It was Gleb. He winked.

Anya woke with a start. Oxana was watching her with interest. Anya stared at her lap and wondered if she would ever be free of these dreams.

* * *

Vlad hit the bell for the concierge for a third time, feeling thoroughly annoyed. Didn’t anyone understand the urgency of what was happening? Lily was in the lobby waiting with him along with the couple White Russian counter-revolutionaries and their body guards that she had managed to dig up at this late hour. A few more were still on the way. The dowager empress was waiting in her car outside.

He had gone down to the desk in his own hotel and gotten a message from this hotel that a man looking for kidnapped woman and was going to a third hotel to find her. The message had neglected to name the third hotel. Before he’d left, he’d packed a small bag of whatever supplies he thought could help: a few tools of his trade, a change of clothes for himself, a disguise for Anya, and some impulse had made him grab Anya’s music box. He hit the concierge bell again.

“Coming, coming!” he heard from behind a closed door. A man pulling on a jacket walked through, looking irritable. “May I help you, Madame, Monsieur?”

“A young woman has been kidnapped! Our friend was here earlier trying to find her and I received a message from this hotel that he had found her, have you seen them, are they here?” Vlad asked banging the counter for emphasis. The concierge looked surprised.

“If the man had a friend who spoke French this whole time why didn’t you come with him? He was lucky a patron of the hotel had shown up who happened to speak Russian,” the concierge said. Vlad was at a bit of a loss at this response.

“We’re very concerned about the welfare of both the young man and lady. If you know where we can find them we’d like to know,” Lily cut in. The concierge seemed to hardly be paying attention, gazing off behind them.

“The young man said the woman was a beautiful Russian woman in a blue dress?” the concierge asked.

“Yes! Have. You. Seen. Her,” Vlad asked exasperated. The concierge pointed.

“Vlad?” a quiet voice he would have known anywhere asked behind him. He whirled and saw Anya standing in the doorway. She was standing there looking stunned, hair down but apparently unscatherd. He felt relief pour through him. He rushed to her and pulled her into a tight hug.

“My dear, you're alright! You have no idea how frightened I was,” he said. It was only then he noticed that she was trembling. He started to pull back to look at her and saw standing behind her was an unfamiliar Russian woman. Dmitry was nowhere to be seen. He heard footsteps come up behind him.

“So this is her, eh? Yes I can see it. I'm Count Pieter Krasnov.” A middle aged man bowed to Anya. He held out his hand out to Anya who looked at him, bemused. The other younger man quickly followed suit, introducing himself as Alexander Sazonov, second son of a Baron.

“Oxana?” Lily was right behind him and apparently addressing the other woman. Oxana wavered for a moment as she took in the crowd of people, and then she relaxed and smiled. 

“Lily. Pieter. Alexander. And you must be Dmitry’s friend Vlad,” she said nodding to him. “Well, this certainly makes my life simpler. I can deliver the Grand Duchess to her allies without even leaving my hotel.” She gave a small laugh and placed her hands on Anya’s shoulders.

“What?” Anya said, stiffening, glancing back at Oxana. Vlad felt uneasy watching this exchange. Oxana smiled at Anya kindly.

“I’m sorry for the deception, your highness, but I had to make the Bolshevik trust me so I could take you out of his custody,” Oxana said simply. Anya narrowed her eyes. Lily stepped in.

“It’s alright, you can trust her. Oxana’s been feeding us information on the Bolshevik activity here for months,” Lily said. Anya looked at Lily in disbelief.

“I helped that young man rescue her, but unfortunately they’ve only traded places,” Oxana said. Vlad felt his heart skip a beat. “I’m frustrated I had no warning, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised they kept this deeply under wraps, given just how out of their jurisdiction they are.” Anya was still looking stunned, but Vlad hardly took notice. Dmitry.

“Is he still-” Vlad started but couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. He didn’t think he could bear finding out the news if Dmitry wasn’t alive.

“The boy’s alive.” Oxana’s lips quirked into a smile. “He promised to go back to Russia quietly and testify that this whole debacle was his deception in order to save Anya. That officer thinks I’m working for him and will bring her back within the hour,” Oxana said. “When he figures out the deception, things probably won't go so well for Dmitry.”

“What?” It was all Vlad could get out. He needed to sit down. He was too old for this.

“It sounds like we have some catching up to do,” Lily put in. “Perhaps we can do this somewhere privately?” She looked at Oxana who nodded and smiled.  

“Of course. I have a room here. Follow me.” Oxana started walking deeper into the hotel. Everyone followed.

“We have to go back,” Anya said as soon as they had all filed into Oxana’s small room. She was staring at Oxana intently. Oxana caught her look and gave her a pitying smile.

“Someone should of course, but you shouldn't be risking your royal neck, should you, your highness?” Oxana said the couple words almost mockingly. Vlad could feel the tension between them. Anya was glaring.

“I am nobody’s highness,” Anya spat. Vlad winced; that wasn’t going to help her case here. “This isn't a game. I'm not going to let him die.” Anya turned to Vlad looking for back up.

“Of course, we'll save him, but she is right too. You're too precious to send back into danger. I’m sure Dmitry wouldn’t want you to take the risk,” Vlad said. Anya flinched. “And I know you’ve been through a lot tonight, but now is no time to start doubting everything you’ve learned about yourself, your highness,” he said, hoping she would understand, or things weren't going to go well. Her eyes blazed.

“Really?! Dmitry’s life in the balance and you’re still focused on this con? Unbelievable.” Anya’s expression was one of rage and disgust. It was Vlad’s turn to flinch. The others shifted uncomfortably. No, this wasn’t going to go well at all.

* * *

The Dowager Empress sat in her car waiting anxiously. They had left her in the car so she wouldn’t tire herself out needlessly. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now she was waiting all alone with nothing to occupy herself as she waited for news. She was watching the hotel door waiting for them to come back out as the minutes stretched when she saw two women walk to the hotel entrance. One was in a remarkably familiar blue dress. And the other, Oxana wasn't it? She'd met their plant in the Cheka a couple times. Could she have already saved that girl? She clutched her cane, pulling out her opera glasses. It was the girl from the opera. She was almost certain.

She straightened in her seat, waiting for someone to summon her or bring the girl out to her. Minutes continued to stretch. She couldn’t wait any longer.

“Ilya, I’m going out,” she said to her driver. He nodded and got out of the driver’s seat, going around the car to open the door for her. She stepped out and began to walk toward the door, cane clacking against the ground. She didn’t like relying on it for walking, but there was nothing for it.

When she walked in the lobby was deserted. She pursed her lips. There was a hall leading back towards the rooms. She clacked her way in that direction. As she got into the hallway she heard raised voices.

“Your High-” The false count’s voice. That was them she thought, smiling grimly.

“Don’t, Vlad. I don’t want to hear anything from you that isn’t a plan on saving Dmitry. The Dowager Empress has already called me an impostor.” The Empress slowed, perhaps she had been a bit hasty earlier. But how could she have known?

“Is that true Lily?” a male voice cut in. It was Pieter if the Empress was any judge. She was hovering outside the door now.

“Well, yes,” Lily started annoyed but continued in a softer tone, “but the Dowager changed her mind and was coming to do a more thorough evaluation when we found you’d been kidnapped. Please, dear, don’t lose heart yet.”

“Have you considered that trying to keep heart is more painful?” the girl said so quietly the Empress could barely hear it, but it was sentiment she was all too familiar with. She felt something tugging at her heartstrings.

“You’re talking as if there could be some ambiguity in the matter. What on earth-”

“She has amnesia, Pieter.” Lily said flatly.

“Well, that sounds all rather convenient now doesn’t it,” Pieter retorted.

“Who I am doesn’t matter right now,” Anya said firmly. “What matters is saving Dmitry; we don’t have much time. And. The sooner that’s done... The sooner I will be out of everyone’s hair for good.” The Empress had heard enough. She turned the door handle, it was unlocked.

As she opened the door all heads swiveled toward her. Pieter and Alexander, standing nearest the door, bowed. The spy, Oxana, moved from the wall she was leaning on to curtsy. Vlad and Lily were standing next to the girl who stood in the middle of the room. Lily rushed to the Empress’ side.

“Your Majesty, I’m so sorry-”

“Everyone leave us,” the Empress commanded, eyes not leaving the girl. She was looking at the Empress with a mix of shock and horror. The girl hadn’t curtsied, but the Empress could forgive that under the circumstances. The room emptied, each bowing or curtsying in turn. Vlad lingered and then pressed something into the girl’s hands. She hardly glanced at it, apparently too stunned to react.

The air in the room was stifling as they looked at each other. The girl, she couldn’t think of her in any more specific terms than that, was beginning to stare at her with something bordering on defiance. She still wasn’t sure. The girl looked away.

“Your Majesty. I-I don't know what you want from me, since, as you've already said, I'm an impostor.” The Empress tutted, it was a childish response.

“I believe I may have spoken too soon. I want to know for certain this time.” She walked very close to Anya, trying to seek out a resemblance, looking into her eyes and see if she recognized them. Her old eyes were failing her. Anya looked uncomfortable.

“What changed your mind?” she asked a little rudely.

“Your ‘Count’ told me some interesting things about you,” The Empress said slowly.

“Why would you believe anything Vlad would have to say?” the girl asked. The Empress froze. Why indeed, the empress wondered. Perhaps she was being foolish. The girl flushed and looked away, “I’m sorry.” The girl shook herself and started to started toward the door. “This isn’t the time, Dmitry is going to die if we don't do something now.”

“I'm sure the others are handling it. Sit down,” she said, drawing on the full force of her well-worn regal authority. The girl froze. “Is it true that you have amnesia dating back ten years?” Anya turned back slowly. The yes was written all over her face. “Please, tell me what you do remember.” The girl looked at the floor.

“I don't remember anything,” she paused and her shoulders hunched a little, “at least nothing that can be trusted.”

“You remembered you had family in Paris?” she prompted. The girl looked up surprised.

“I see Vlad was very chatty. But that’s what I mean, until I met them I only thought it might be Paris. I was supposed to meet someone by a bridge and square, but that's could be anywhere. When I got here I thought it might be the Alexander bridge, but-” The Dowager Empress’ heart skipped a beat.

“I would tell Anastasia, I would take her to her grandfather’s bridge when she came to Paris with me,” the Empress said almost eagerly. She wondered at herself giving this away. She had said she would close the door, and yet here she was putting more hopes on this girl than any of her predecessors. She supposed she just wanted this journey to be over and for it to have a happy ending. Surely she ought to be allowed to dream that a little good could have survived in this world after everything. The girl looked startled and then a little sad. She shook her head.

“Another coincidence most likely. They put the idea that I could be a grand duchess in my head, and I started to believe it, fill in gaps but -”

“Tell me your mother’s full title,” the Empress said falling back onto her familiar liturgy of questions, hoping it would awake something in this girl. The girl blinked in surprise, and then glanced toward the door.

“I could, but only because Vlad and Dmitry drilled me for weeks on those sorts of details. Please, I don’t want to play this game anymore. I could tell you I remember watching my little dog Tobi running in a garden. That I remember sailing down the Volga with my family. I think I have these flashes, but I _don’t_ _know_ if there’s even a hint of truth in them. I can’t waste more time believing in fairytales!” The girl’s face was red. She was bordering on shouting.

“Why don’t you want to be her?” the Empress asked, her heart sinking. She was practically begging this girl to just take ownership as her granddaughter, a chance so many had jumped for and yet she refused. The girl crossed her arms.

“I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t want to hurt myself either. This game of make believe can surely end in only that.” The Empress felt her old friend bitterness well up inside her.

“Perhaps you aren't her after all. My Anastasia was strong, brave, not afraid of anything,” the Empress said with disdain, trying to mask her hurt. What a fool she was.

She almost missed the girl's reaction, she looked as if someone had slapped her across the face. She looked dazed and then lifted the glittering green box she'd been holding up to her eyes.

“You said that to me, the night you left, the night you gave me this.” the girl looked up, a mix of fear and horror and hope in her eyes. Then the Empress really looked at the box. Could it be?

The girl turned the crank at the bottom of the box and popped open the lid. Their secret song started to play, and to her surprise Anastasia started to sing.

“Far away, cross the sea. Hear this song and remember.” Anastasia clapped her hand over her mouth, her breath coming in great heaving gulps; the Empress finished.

“Soon you'll be home with me, once upon a December.” She pulled her granddaughter, who was sobbing now, into her arms.

“Anastasia,” she whispered, still hardly daring to believe it. All her years of hoping were not for nothing. Anastasia was just one of many lost souls returned, but in that moment her heart felt whole again.

“Nana?” Anastasia was laughing as well as crying now. “You still smell like orange blossoms.” The Empress was brushing her hair back from her granddaughters face.

“It's going to be wonderful, we’ll make a grand announcement. We'll go to the ballet every night, dining at the finest Paris has to offer. We can visit your aunt in Denmark.” This did not have the expected effect on Anastasia whose face paled.

“No! No one can know, Nana. They'll kill me. Oh God, Gleb-” Anastasia was lost to some horrible memory.

“Alright, alright we'll keep it a secret. We have each other again, that's all that matters,” the Empress said, running her hands down Anastasia's arms to take her hands. She was afraid to let go of her lest she disappear. “Who is Gleb?”

“He was the man who was taking me back to Russia. He said he was ordered to kill Anastasia.” The Empress harrumphed.

“Well, I think we can show him some White Russian hospitality while he's here.” Again this did not elicit the expected response.

“I think he really wanted to help the poor street sweeper Anya,” Anastasia said, looking distant and a little bit sad.

“Don't tell me you are sympathetic to this man,” the Empress said. Anya frowned as if trying to wrestle with it herself.

“He has Dmitry and will kill him if he gets the chance and I suppose he’ll kill me now too but … I don’t know, he was kind to me. He wanted to help me find a future,” she sighed, looking lost. “He’s just very human.” She laughed a little, then sighed again. “I suppose I do sympathize with him, but it doesn’t matter,” she said firmly. “We’ve got to get Dmitry away from him and then get him on his way back to Russia.”

“Or we could send a message to the Cheka about meddling in Paris,” the Empress said flatly. She didn’t usually bother herself much with the White Russian dealings, but this man had nearly taken away her one living, yes God bless, _living_ , granddaughter. Killing the man who was the nearest representative of the men who slaughtered her family sounded just fine. Anastasia still seemed conflicted. The Empress shook her head, Anastasia had been through quite enough for one day, no reason to put these decisions on her.

“Let’s go see how plans are going to rescue your young man,” the Empress said, patting Anastasia’s hand.

“I wouldn’t say he’s my young man, Nana,” she said. The Empress opened the door and found everyone she’d sent out of the room milling about with the distinctive look of people trying to pretend that hadn’t just been eavesdropping. She gave them all disparaging looks as they quickly bowed or curtsied with obviously eager looks toward the Grand Duchess.

“Disgraceful. Well. Come back inside, we have much to discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience! Hope you enjoyed the nods to the original movie in this one. Just a few more chapters to go before this all wraps up~
> 
> p.s. Comments on my last chapter made me curious of all your Dimya vs. Glenya preferences. Let me know in the comments: #TeamGleb #TeamDmitry #WhyNotBoth? ;p (No promises my ending will go with a popular vote, but I'd like to know what people are hoping for).


	11. The World Must Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Anya has to deal with all the expectations of being Anastasia, and Gleb tries to defend Russia to Dmitry.

“But with the discovery of Anastasia, we have a real claim to the throne of Russia now, the other nations would have to recognize us,” Alexander exclaimed. As soon as the others had been let back into the room the conversation had turned to how she could be used for political gain in the White Russian Rebellion. She had tried to drag them back on topic, but the men could hardly contain themselves at her discovery.

“For the last time, I am not interested in the throne. Can we please stay focused on the matter at hand? Oxana and I should have been back by now, every moment we waste is a moment closer to a man’s death,” Anya said through gritted teeth. Dmitry and Gleb were all but being forgotten. She had no interest in any of these political schemes, certainly not now.

“I beg your forgiveness, your highness, but the throne is your birthright, and this cause is about more than just yourself. You cannot abdicate so lightly,” Alexander said with a touch of heat in his voice, once again completely ignoring the issue. Anya wanted to scream. The Empress interjected.

“Enough. We can discuss the matter of the throne at a later time,” the Empress decreed. Silence settled over the room. Anya felt relieved, although she dreaded the decision she would be forced to make later. She wondered if it was already too late to keep the secret contained.

“I say just call the French Police and let them handle it,” Pieter put in. “It sounds like the evidence will be very compelling - a man tied up and beaten in his room - and we can deal with higher matters.”

“The French won’t be able to hold him for too long and certainly won’t give him what he deserves. If we want to send a very strong message it will have to come from us,” Oxana said, closing the door behind her. She was coming back into the room after briefly excusing herself. Oxana’s face was neutral. Anya would not trust Oxana whatever Lily and her Grandmother might say. Oxana’s talk of ‘getting ahead’ on the walk to this hotel had certainly seemed true, but she had no definitive proof of her loyalty or lack thereof.

“I agree, it would be a grand shake up if the Bolsheviks found their assassin dead, while his intended target gains more and more followers by the day,” Pieter said. Anya could practically see the stars in his eyes. “Who do you suppose we should ask to ally first?” She wanted to shake him. She had no interest in playing that game.

“Indeed, they wouldn’t like that. I’ve hopefully bought us a bit of time. I just sent a message back to our Bolshevik friend. I’ve told him to stay put and our delay is simply due to a twisted ankle on her highness’ part,” Oxana said, smiling.

“Do you think that will be enough?” Anya said, her voice betraying a hint of suspicion. Oxana turned to her with a smile.

“The Grand Duchess can attest that the officer has my total trust.” Heads turned to look at her. Anya could hardly deny it, she gave a curt nod. Oxana was quiet for a moment, thinking.

“Here’s my proposal. If we just tried to burst in we could overwhelm him with numbers, but most likely one or more of us or the one we’re rescuing would be hurt in the confusion. His room is on the second floor. We can send one of you posing as a bystander that I sent for his help. You can tell him that ‘Anya’ can’t go further without being carried and I need his help. We can then lure him out to a location of our choosing and Dmitry will be kept entirely out of it.” Oxana smiled as she finished. There was silence as everyone digested the plan. Anya began to wonder if she had misjudged Oxana after all. After how recklessly she had used Dmitry in the first plan, she was surprised she gave any consideration for his safety. Perhaps she regretted the harm she’d already put him through?

“You all can decide exactly how you want to deal with the Bolshevik. He may have information worth getting, or he may not,” Oxana added.

“Hm, indeed. Might be good to see what the fellow knows if he was entrusted with a solo mission to assassinate our Grand Duchess,” Pieter murmured.

“Perhaps we can try turning some of the Cheka’s tactics against one of their own. I heard of a very interesting one involving rats,” Alexander put in grimly. Anya’s stomach turned.

“Are we barbarians now?” Anya turned on him. He glared at her.

“The Cheka are monsters and deserve to be treated as such. I would expect you to understand, you witnessed the murder of your family too, did you not?” he said, temper flaring. It was the ‘too’ that made a retort die in her throat. The Cheka had unleashed horrors onto Russia. She certainly couldn’t deny that. Gleb had been kind to her, sure, but he was also here to kill her, and he would have no choice now. She felt her resolve crumbling. She should just let them get on with this planning without her interference.

“Excuse me. I need to clear my head, I’m sure you can get on with the planning without me.” Anya stormed out of the room, not acknowledging the people popping out of their seats to bow or curtsy as she left the room. It was all too infuriating.

* * *

Gleb was returning Dmitry to his handcuffs, having gotten his signature on the document with his confession. Gleb hoped this would be enough, Anya did have an aura of innocence that would help her as well. He glanced at the clock, it had been nearly an hour. He looked down at Dmitry again sitting on the floor, staring at the ground. He was in bad shape, the bruises from his earlier beating were starting to color in. They’d need to leave very discreetly in the morning.

“Well, you’ve told me how you planned this scheme. You say you wanted the money, and to get out of Russia, many have wanted that - times are hard. But, tell me, why would an anarchist try to bring back the Tsars? That just doesn’t make add up to me,” Gleb said. Dmitry looked up, startled.

“I’m not an anarchist,” Dmitry said looking puzzled.

“Really? Then why bring them up earlier? You seemed quite sympathetic to their cause,” Gleb said. Dmitry’s eyes filled with understanding, then he sagged.

“My father was the anarchist, he fought for a new Russia and died for it. I don’t claim to hold such lofty ideals. My plan was to get out and live. The Tsar con was a means to an end. That’s it.” Dmitry was inspecting the floor with interest.

“How old were you?” Gleb asked. Dmitry looked up.

“What?”

“How old were you when he died?”

“I was ten when he was taken to a labor camp _._ They told me he died a few years later. He was the only person I had.” Dmitry’s voice was quiet but with a rough edge that betrayed the deep wounds this memory held. Gleb found he had some sympathy for the man. He knew what losing a father to a revolution was like.

“It may be hard to accept, but it was necessary for the greater good of Russia.” Gled had given speeches like this a dozen times. He believed it with all his heart. “We needed people to come together, there was no room for dissent lest we crumble. You must know that the state is more important than even family.” Dmitry looked up in disbelief and laughed. Gleb stiffened.

“Have you really eaten their propaganda so thoroughly that you would really sell out your own family?”

“If they are traitors to Russia then they have betrayed me first. My father would have wanted it no other way. He was an honorable soldier of the revolution. He was there the night the Romanovs were executed. He took part so the new Russia could move into a better future.” There was silence as this revelation settled in.

“So a man who participated in overthrowing one government wants blind obedience to the new one?” Dmitry shook his head and stared at the floor. “What’s so much better about this future that makes it worth all that death?”

“We’re all equal now,” Gleb responded reflexively. Dmitry snorted.

“Really? Then why am I living on the street while you have a home?”

“I’ve worked to better myself, we all have that chance,” Gleb responded evenly.

“I guess I missed that trying to survive on the street as a child.” Dmitry spat at his feet. Gleb felt his patience wear thin. “I don’t know what fantasy you’re living in, but open your eyes. Russia is broken.”

“Watch what you say.”

“Or what, you’ll execute me twice? What good are you doing anyone exactly? Dragging an innocent girl back to face execution and catching some pathetic idiot like me? How will that make anyone’s lives better? All you people do is make the common people’s lives miserable, afraid to speak, to even breathe.”

“I am protecting our country. Order must be-” Gleb stopped short when Dmitry’s head snapped up and their eyes locked.

“Who are you protecting exactly? The people starving in the streets? The kids with no home or family? The Bolsheviks may not have fancy palaces but they’re no better than the Tsars.” Dmitry seemed to deflate as he paused to draw breath. “The revolution failed, we’re all stuck in the same place we’ve always been.” Dmitry’s gaze dropped back to the floor.

Gleb was white with anger. This boy was wrong. There’d been so much progress. He knew there was. It wasn’t perfect yet, nothing could be.

“You know what? You’re right.” Gleb twitched his mouth in a half smile. Dmitry looked up surprised. “There’s no use in reasoning with a man destined for a firing squad.” Dmitry held his gaze for a moment longer before looking away.

Both of them jumped at a sudden knock at the door. Relieved Gleb pulled it open.

“You’re la-” He stopped when he saw a young man, maybe 16 or 17 standing at the door holding a note. He switched from Russian to French “I’m sorry who are you?”

“Are you Gleb? Oxana sent me. I have an urgent letter for you.”

* * *

“I’ll make sure she’s alright,” Vlad said a few moments after Anya’s abrupt exit. He popped out of his chair and followed, bowing to the Empress before making his exit. He wanted to speak to Anya, reassure her. He walked slowly, wanting to give Anya at least a few moments alone.

He rubbed the back of his neck ruefully. Anya had found her family, but under such circumstances, it was little wonder that she was already at a breaking point. Being threatened with death and now all this talk of war. He hoped that Her Majesty would seclude Anya for a while to give her time to process what everything.

He was trying not to think of Dmitry. His heart really couldn’t take it if anything happened to that boy, but there was nothing he could do for Dmitry right now.

He walked out onto the street, Anya was standing outside the hotel, gazing off into the middle distance. He cleared his throat. She cast a startled glance his way. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. She gave a weak one back.

“So you’ve found your family after all,” he said gently.

“Yes. I can’t say this is how I imagined it happening.”

“It certainly wasn’t how I imagined it.” They both laughed, a release of nervous energy. They lapsed into an awkward silence.

“Anya, er, Your Highness-“

“Please, just call me Anya.”

“I think apologies are in order. It’s very tempting for me to say, ‘all’s well that ends well, but, well,” he gave her a wry smile, “the truth is I’m a greedy, selfish old man. I never wanted anyone to get hurt, especially not you Anya. When that man took you from the ballet- I felt I ought to be shot on the spot for my responsibility in that.” Trembling, he put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re safe. I hope you can forgive me one day.” She gave him a smile and then pulled him in for a hug.

“I forgive you now, you silly old bean,” she said. He felt tears threatening, and held her tight. “I feel terribly ungrateful. I finally know who I am. I found my family. And yet part of me desperately wishes I wasn’t her. It seems to be causing nothing but trouble,” she said quietly.

“You mean you wish you weren’t _you_?” he corrected gently. He pushed her back so he could see her face. Her eyes were a little too bright, as if she were holding back tears.

“It doesn’t feel real; I don’t have many more memories than when we started. Everything that’s happened tonight is terrifying. A life where people want me dead, because others want me to lead a revolution. Being a street sweeper was so simple.” She laughed and he smiled back sympathetically. He wished he could do more for her.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Anya. I’m sure the Dowager Empress would understand.” Vlad patted her shoulder. Anya started to fuss with her hair.

“Gleb, the officer, was trying to convince me I could have a life in Russia, as crazy as that sounds. He asked me to imagine doing whatever I wanted. I was so surprised when he asked I didn’t know what to say,” she said ruefully, “but I had started thinking. I spent so much time starving on the roads. I think what I’d really like to do is feed people. Maybe I could do that here instead.” Vlad smiled, and was about to reply when a cold female voice cut in.

“After everything the Bolsheviks have done to you and to Russia you would abdicate your responsibility to fight them to … become a cook.” Oxana was leaning in the door frame, her expression blank.

* * *

“I don’t want to be the cause of more bloodshed,” Anya said. She hadn’t expected this line of questioning from Oxana and wondered again if she had misjudged her.

“Have you considered there might be less bloodshed if you ended the Bolshevik regime?” Oxana asked with an indifferent sort of curiosity. This did take Anya aback. She hadn’t considered it. Oxana gave her a half smile as watched Anya’s reaction then she shook her head in mock disapproval. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I have considered it and the bloodshed will be unconscionably high in either case.”

“Did you come here for a reason Oxana?” Anya asked warily. Oxana brightened.

“Ah yes. The plan has been decided on. Pieter and Alexander are calling in some men, and her Majesty sent me to bring you back in. Your highness,” she added, curtseying in what seemed almost a mocking gesture. Anya pushed down her annoyance.

“Of course, if Nana wants me.” Anya gestured for Oxana to lead the way back in.

They followed Oxana back inside, back to her room. Once again everyone insisted on standing and bowing or curtsying as she entered. She tried not to show her displeasure too openly this time. There would be time to negotiate what her newly remembered past meant.

As she walked in she saw her grandmother looked quite tired, but she smiled when she saw her walk in. Alexander and Pietr were talking in hushed tones to a group of men.

“My dear, come sit with me.” The Empress motioned Anya over and then gave a nod to Oxana. “You may sit too.” She ignored Vlad who remained standing awkwardly at a distance. Again to Oxana she said, “why don’t you explain the plan.” The Empress gave a faint smile.

“Of course Your Majesty. Pieter, I and a handful of his men will go nab Gleb and … deal with him, and I’ll bring Dmitry back here. Your Majesty, Your Highness, Countess Lily can wait here for him and rest. Count Alexander will serve as your guard,” Oxana said simply. Anya felt the hairs raise on the back of her neck.

“Oxana why don’t you stay here and guard us. Vlad can get Dmitry, I’m sure he’s anxious to see him. You weren’t going to be the one to knock on his door anyway so it won’t matter if you aren’t there.” The words came out suddenly. She didn’t know why she felt compelled to do this, but she didn’t trust Oxana and if she were there and really on Gleb’s side a lot of men could get hurt. Oxana blinked in surprise.

“If Your Highness wishes,” Oxana said in surprise. She looked at Anya curiously. “And if ‘Count Popov’ has no objections.” She turned to look at him, still hovering in the background.

“I would be relieved to see Dmitry sooner than later,” Vlad replied. Oxana considered this and nodded. She looked to the Empress for approval who nodded as well.

“As you wish,” Oxana said, stood, and curtseyed. “I’ll inform the others.” She wandered to the group of men. Vlad followed her.

Anya looked at her grandmother who was watching her.

“This young man we’re rescuing. Was he at the ballet tonight?” the Empress asked.

“Yes he was,” Anya said, surprised.

“Tall, somewhat boyish features?” she asked. Anya nodded slowly. “Very … brazen attitude?”

“What did he do?!” Anya laid a hand over her mouth.

“Hmph. Well.” The Empress started. Lily cut in.

“He stomped on the train of her dress as she tried to leave! He told her that ‘God would judge her harshly’! And that ‘history-”

“Lily!” The Empress let out a long suffering sigh.

“I am so sorry. I had no idea.” Anya was horrified. A hint of smile traced her grandmother’s lips.

“He convinced me that I might have made a mistake by not inspecting you a little more closely, and given the outcome tonight I’m inclined to forgive his lack of … decorum.” There was a silence as her Grandmother considered Anya with something almost like mischief in her eyes. “A man who would risk so much for a girl is his own kind of Prince.”

Anya turned red. His declaration of love echoed in her mind. He was risking everything for her right now. She’d been so mad at him just hours ago, but with everything that had happened it felt like an eternity ago. Had he really believed her the whole time after all? She looked at her Grandmother, searching for words, but before she could say anything, Alexander walked in and joined them.

“Princes, eh? Are you discussing a suitable Marriage for her highness? Marrying into the right family will be invaluable for moving our plans forward.” Anya went from red to white. She hadn’t even thought that far ahead yet. “We’ll have to think very carefully on this matter, but you will do great things for us, Your Highness. Miss Oxana told me that my services won’t be required tonight and I would like take this opportunity to turn in as my wife will be missing me.”

“Of course, Alexander, do send her my regards.” The Empress smiled thinly as he bowed to them both and made his exit. “He’s right about the marriage of course. As royalty our lives don’t belong to ourselves.” The Empress looked lost in thought. “I would hate for our reunion to turn into a source of unhappiness for you.” Anya was at a loss for words, and she was once again interrupted before she could find any.

“Your Majesty, Your Highness, we are ready to depart. Some of us should return here within a couple hours to give a report and deliver the current hostage to you. There should be more reports in the coming days, if the Bolshevik has anything interesting to say,” Pietr added with grim satisfaction. Anya felt heat rise to her cheeks, and she was about to stand but the Empress pressed her hand on Anya’s shoulder. Anya looked back, to see her Nana eyes were sympathetic but there was iron behind them.

“Stay safe all of you. Go now,” the Empress said and squeezed Anya’s shoulder. They all bowed and left. Vlad lingered for a moment to give Anya one last reassuring smile before following the others. Anya sat back in her chair, trying to pull in her anger and fear. It was just Oxana, Lily, Nana, and herself now. She turned to look at the Empress again and saw that she was on the verge of nodding off.

“Nana, there’s no reason for you to stay here. Why don’t you go home and rest? ”

“I’m fine I assure you.”

“We can tell you what happens tomorrow. I’m sure Oxana can keep me company.”

“Hmph. I am bit tired. Very well, Lily inform Ilya I’m ready to leave.” Lily jumped up and hurried off to follow her orders.

“I know this is a hard adjustment.” The Empress pursed her lips as if trying to decide if she should say more. “Come walk me out.”

They walked out to the car. Oxana followed at a respectful distance. As they stopped outside, her Grandmother gave her a tight hug. “Seeing you tonight has brought me happiness I thought I would never have again. Anastasia.”

“I love you, Nana.” Anya found her voice suddenly choked with tears because she knew that she couldn’t stay. The life before her was untenable, and, if stopping the violence meant disappearing into the night, then that is what she would do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad you're still with me. We're quite close to finish line now. :)
> 
> Gotta say I was quite surprised on how dead even the Dmitry vs. Gleb poll turned out to be. I hope that the ending is satisfying even if it's not exactly what you hope.


	12. Whatever I Have to Do I'll Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #ShotsFired

Anya waved as she watched the car drive away down the street. Oxana stepped beside her. When Anya turned to look at her she found Oxana was giving her an appraising look. Anya returned it with one of her own. She noticed that there was a gun strapped openly to her side.

“I see you’re prepared for a fight. Are the men going to find Gleb when they go to his hotel, do you think?” Anya asked, not trying to hide the accusation in her tone.

“Interesting. You don’t trust me and yet you arrange to be alone with me.” Oxana’s expression betrayed nothing.

“I’d rather be the one to get shot in the back than have others die because of me,” Anya said in what she hoped was an even tone. Oxana raised an eyebrow.

“That’s a terrible mindset for royalty to have. Do you truly have no idea how valuable you are to them? You change the whole game. The potential for new alliances with the greats of Europe alone could give them serious clout. Without you none of that is possible.”

“I have no interest in any of that.” Anya said quietly. “I don’t want any fighting on my behalf.”

“Well if it makes you feel better they’ll be fighting with or without you, you merely give them an actual chance,” Oxana said, exasperated. “What would you do to stop it, run away?” Anya cringed.

“That is your plan, isn’t it? Think carefully about this.” Oxana took a step toward her. “Think of everything you’d be giving up. High society, all the comforts money and status can provide.”

“I don’t want any of that,” Anya said, sticking up her chin in defiance.

“Oh yes, of course, you’ve already told me that. You just wanted to find your family. Well congratulations, Your Highness. You have found your family. There’s more than just Her Majesty you know. Think of all the cousins, aunts and uncles you have. If you ever want to meet them then this is the path you must follow.” Oxana took another step toward her. Anya had too look up to maintain eye contact. Anya hadn’t even considered that she had more family.

“Even so I can’t be who they want me to be. I have to leave.” It came out in a whisper. There was a dangerous spark of anger in Oxana’s eyes.

“I see. When exactly do you plan on making your disappearance?” Oxana asked, eyes cold.

“I’ll wait to see Dmitry’s alright and then I’ll go.” Anya held her ground but felt her pulse racing, wondering if Oxana would try and stop her. Oxana broke eye contact, looking annoyed. Her eyes wandered the street as if searching for something.

“So be it. Let’s go back ins-” Oxana’s voice trailed off as her eyes fixed on something and a grim smile broke out across her face. With a chill that started in the pit of her stomach and spread to the top of her spine, Anya realized Oxana had never answered her first question. She turned around slowly and saw a figure walking toward them. Oxana’s hands were suddenly very tight on her shoulders.

“So you were on his side this whole time?” Anya asked quietly.

“I already told you. Whatever gets me ahead. The White Russians will fail without you. Since you won’t be there to help them either way I might as well benefit from your disappearance.” The figure passed under the next streetlight. It was Gleb. Anya and Gleb locked eyes. His were cold.

* * *

_Earlier..._

Dmitry could only listen to the conversation as Gleb was apparently handed a letter by some man at the door. He wasn’t sure what this could mean. Oxana hadn’t come back with Anya, which might mean she was keeping her promise.

“Did she say anything else to you?” Gleb prompted.

“She said, uh ... ‘your girlfriend twisted her ankle and she didn’t want you to’ - these are her words - ‘worry your pretty little head about it’. She said something about your girlfriend’s family keeping them company, and that you’re welcome to join them.” There was an awkward pause.

Dmitry’s mind raced trying to figure out what that could possibly mean. Anya’s family? There was only one possibility that made any sense. But how on Earth would the Empress have found her? It was crazy to think she would have just run into her in these circumstances. Maybe it was a code.

“I see. Anything else?”

“No. But she made a big point of making sure you knew you could join, I assume it’s all in the letter.” There was another pause.

“Did she pay you?”

“Oh yes-”

“Good.” Gleb closed the door decisively and tore into the envelope. Dmitry could now see the annoyance written plainly on his face. His brows were knitted together, probably trying to do the same mental math Dmitry was.

He frowned as he read the letter. He tilted his head and appeared to read it a second time. Dmitry desperately wanted to know what was on that paper. Maybe Oxana was luring Gleb out. If Gleb left he’d have his own chance to escape. Gleb glanced down at Dmitry and their eyes met. Dmitry looked away quickly. He didn’t want Gleb to see the hope he was feeling.

“Anya doesn’t have any family.” Gleb said it almost as an accusation. Dmitry shrugged. “What do you know about Oxana?”

“Obviously not as much as I thought before I charged in here.”

“But she made you trust her.”

“Yeah. Well. I really didn’t think my luck was so bad that the first person to offer me help would turn out to be a Cheka spy.”

“Hmph.” Gleb turned away and pulled a heavy overcoat out of the armoire and put it on. He looked at the letter one more time, then threw it on the desk in disgust.

Dmitry kept his gaze on the floor. Gleb was going out. Freedom might be a few short minutes away. Heavy boots moved into his field of vision and he felt a chill run down his spine. He looked up and a gun was in Gleb’s hands.

“Hold still,” Gleb said. He then put the gun in his coat pocket and began to quickly retie Dmitry’s bindings to latch onto the heavy desk leg. Gleb stood up. “Remember what Anya said. Don’t do anything stupid.” With that Gleb walked out the door.

Dmitry listened carefully as a key scraped in the lock and Gleb’s footsteps disappeared. He counted backwards from 20. No sound. He slipped the hairpin out of his sleeve. After a minute of agonizing fiddling he had the handcuffs off. He untied his legs and went straight to the letter. He could now see why Gleb was confused.

_Your girlfriend is fine, but she twisted her ankle. It’s late, cabs aren’t out so we’re staying here for the night. I’m sure you and pretty boy can do fine without us until cabs start showing up in the morning._

_-O_

Dmitry frowned; this contradicted what the delivery boy said. But why? What reason could she have for contradicting herself in the letter. Well it didn’t matter. He knelt at the door and began picking the door lock.

Every sense felt heightened as he tried to hear the subtlest clicks, feel the different pressures against the hairpin. A drop of sweat slid down his cheek. Footsteps. He froze, holding his breath until they passed. Back to work. As he heard the click of the lock release he felt tension release from his body. He cracked open the door. The hallway was empty.

He walked lightly out into the hallway and through the hotel. No one stopped him. When he went out the front door he took a moment to breathe in the cool night air, to savor that moment of freedom. Then he took off toward Oxana’s hotel. He didn’t know if he could beat Gleb there but hopefully he could get there before anything too terrible happened.

* * *

“Report,” Gleb said once he was in easy speaking distance. He looked at the scene before him, jaw set. “Her ankle seems to be fine.” Oxana smiled wryly.

“Glad you made it comrade. It’s a long story. But the short version is the White Russians found us.” Gleb stopped dead in his tracks, pulling his gun from his pocket. “Oh don’t worry I contrived to send them away. So now it’s just the three of us.”

“And how did you ‘contrive to send them away’? It’s been a long night and I have no patience for games.” Gleb stopped a few paces from them, gun still in hand. Oxana kept her smile but he thought he could see a few cracks in her seemingly carefree veneer.

“Well. I didn’t think this aspect of my identity would be relevant to you, but I happen to have infiltrated the White Russian movement here and report on their doings. I sent for you to come here and sent the White Russians to your hotel. They’ll get the boy and you’ll get the girl. Unfortunately all this has put me in a tight spot. It’ll be hard to keep my cover after I let you kill her, but I trust you can put in a good word for me back in Russia.” Oxana suddenly pulled out her gun and had it on Anya. Anya seemed frozen in horror. Gleb felt a vein throbbing in his temple.

“What are you talking about? I’m taking her back to Russia. She’s an innocent in this, and throwing away Dmitry will make us lose key testimony in that case.” He lifted his gun slightly, ready to fire on Oxana if she showed signs of turning on him.

“Oh yes, of course, of course,” Oxana said, lowering her gun just slightly. “She was telling me you wanted to rehabilitate her. She said that after spending so much time being on the streets hungry she’d like to help feed people.” Gleb felt his heart warm a little at that.

“That sounds like a fi-” he started to say but Oxana cut him off.

“It’s a shame she really is a Romanov.” Oxana paused for a moment, looking for his reaction. He froze then started to shake his head in disbelief. Oxana smiled pityingly, then turned back with intensity to Anya. “The former Empress has acknowledged her and the White Russians are already coming up with plans to make her the centerpiece of their little rebellion.”  Oxana’s gun was back up.

Gleb felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. He looked at Anya. Desperately seeking denial in her expression. She was looking at the ground, resigned.

“Is this true?” He saw regret in her face. She didn’t speak. “ _Anya_!”

* * *

Dmitry peered around the corner on the street to Oxana’s hotel. He saw the tableau of figures. He wasn’t too late then. He backtracked to an alley. Peering down, it seemed to trace the length of the street. He could go down and come out between buildings unseen. He began to run lightly through the alley.

* * *

Anya flinched as Gleb shouted her name. She looked up at him, wishing she could tell him what he wanted to hear. But she couldn’t lie to him. She would accept her fate. She squared her chin.

“It’s true,” Anya said with a strength that surprised even herself. She saw Gleb’s eyes widen. His gun shot up.

* * *

None of this was right. He was supposed to save her. His hands started to shake. He felt anger fill him, the news like lightning setting the flame. _An underhanded girl._

“So you were lying to me the whole time then? Was this all just a game to you?” He was dangerously close to losing control.

* * *

Dmitry heard Gleb shouting accusations and started to sprint. He could see the backside of the hotel. As he reached the building next to it he skidded to a stop. His view was blocked by bushes.

* * *

“I did not lie. I couldn’t remember the truth until I came here.”

A calm swept over Anya. She stood in the eye of a hurricane; all her emotions spun around her, but in it’s center she found her resolve.

“You were right Gleb. Anastasia will bring great harm and I want no part in it.” She looked him dead in the eyes. “Do what you have to do.”

* * *

Duty. He knew his duty. It was so simple. She was asking him to do it.

“ _Anya-”_ His voice almost pleading.

“I am the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov. Finish it. I am my father’s daughter.”

“And I am my father’s son." Was she taunting him? He felt something inside him snap. "Finish it I must.” He released the safety from his gun.

* * *

Dmitry peered through the bushes. Anya was closest to him, but far. If he timed it right he could knock her out of harm’s way. He stood poised, waiting for his moment.

* * *

_You see them in me don’t you. You remember that night, you can still hear their screams._ Anya thought with venom. She felt as if she could hear them too.

“Do it,” she spat. _And I will be with my family in the cellar in Yekaterinburg all over again._ She felt tension in every part of her body as she waited for that final moment of impact.

* * *

Gleb was lost in his own storm, fighting to see a path forward. He had to kill her. He remembered the children singing beyond the gate. He had to kill her. He remembered his father returning that night. The night that destroyed him. But his father had done his duty for Russia. _They were the enemy. She is the enemy._ _Pull the trigger._

* * *

“Gleb. What are you waiting for?” Oxana felt sweat beading on her forehead. She glanced up and down the street, at the windows. She didn’t see anyone watching but that could change. If they waited too long Pietr and crew might even charge back here. They had cars, it wouldn’t take too long. She had chosen the safe route. The route that didn’t have Cheka chasing her down all her days. But if the others came back before this was done she might still end up dead.

* * *

“You’re asking me to end it. If you swear to disappear. I’ll let you go.” A light cutting through the fog. Gleb felt as if he were barely in reality but the moment his brain found a possible out he took it. He started to lower his gun.

* * *

Anya felt as if the earth suddenly stopped. He wasn’t going to kill her? She started to nod.

* * *

“Oh for heaven's sake. I’ll do it myself.” Oxana released the safety. Gleb and Anya’s heads snapped her way. It was a pity, but she would not jeopardize everything by letting Anya be a loose end. She sighted down her gun. Everything happened at once.

The crack of a gunshot. Anya’s scream. Dmitry jumping from behind the bush into Anya’s side. Both falling.

Oxana saw blood blossom not from Anya but from Dmitry. She tried to raise her gun for a second shot, but suddenly found she lacked the strength. Feeling numb, she realized there had been a second gunshot.

As Oxana began to collapse to the ground she turned to look at Gleb. As vision faded from her eyes, the last thing she saw was his horrified expression and a gun falling from his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood music: https://youtu.be/UYIAfiVGluk?t=2m52s 
> 
> I really want to hear your reactions to this chapter. Next time the exciting conclusion~!


	13. Find a Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home, Love, Family. She will have all of it. I will help her ...  
> Simple Things. Simple Things. Whatever I have to do, I'll do. Simple how simple men ...

The world faded into view. His shoulder felt as if it were on fire. Dmitry moaned. His hand went up. His fingers touched something warm and wet.

“I think it’s a graze. The bullet didn’t stick,” Dmitry heard Anya say. He heard tearing then felt something pressing into his shoulder. He opened his eyes. Anya was pressing down on the top of his shoulder. When she saw his eyes open, she gave him a teary smile.

“How long were you in those bushes?”

“Not too long,” he muttered, his voice a little strained from the pain.

“Do you think you can sit up?” Dmitry nodded and Anya helped him get upright. He saw Gleb crouched next to Oxana. Her chest was covered in red. Her eyes were open, staring frozen at the sky. Dmitry felt his stomach turn. Gleb seemed in shock. Anya looked Gleb’s way, still supporting Dmitry.

“Gleb,” Anya said, her voice higher than usual. He didn’t answer. “We need to go. Help me get him up.” Gleb started to stand as if in a daze.

“Anya. He just tried to kill you,” Dmitry interjected flatly. He had spent the evening at the mercy of this man, and while the pain in his shoulder was outweighing the bruises of a few hours ago he had not forgotten about them. Anya glanced back at Dmitry, startled.

“He just killed Oxana to save me. You both saved me. And I don’t think any of us should stick around.” She set her jaw in that familiar, infuriatingly stubborn way.

“I can’t stop him from leaving, but he’s not coming with us,” Dmitry said through gritted teeth. Gleb cut in before Anya could respond.

“I can’t leave. I need to take responsibility for what I’ve done.” Gleb’s eyes were still riveted on Oxana. “I’ve devoted my life to the law. I couldn’t possibly run off into the night like a common criminal.”

“You have plenty to atone for, but languishing in prison, or worse getting executed, won’t help you do that,” Anya said, steely. Gleb looked at her wide-eyed and then shook his head. Anya glared. Dmitry sighed. Gleb stood up and turned to face Anya.

“Anya. Promise me that you’ll disappear.” Gleb walked over to Anya and knelt by her side so he could look her in the eye. “I won’t be the last person they send if you don’t.” Anya seemed too overcome to say anything. The pain in Dmitry’s shoulder gave him very little patience for this whole scenario.

“If you’re just going to go back to Russia as if nothing has changed then you should rot in a prison,” Dmitry spat. Both of them looked at him, startled. “But Anya is right. You just disobeyed your orders to save the life of a Romanov. You could use your new found epiphany that orders can be wrong to at least do some good in the world.” Gleb stared at him open mouthed. “Look, Anya’s going to do something stupid if you don’t go, so please leave,” he muttered.

Anya looked up at the sound of motors heading their way. She looked up at Gleb with a mixture of sadness and resolve in her eyes.

“Well Gleb,” Anya said, “I swear to disappear if you do.” Gleb took her hand, and for a moment they stared at each other. Something unspoken seemed to pass between them, and then Gleb nodded. Dmitry thought he could see cars rounding the corner.

“Go through the bushes I came through, there’s an alley that should let you get away,” Dmitry put in, wondering if he was doing the right thing. Gleb cast him a glance and nodded.

Gleb squeezed Anya’s hands then staggered to his feet. Dmitry and Anya watched as he disappeared into the bushes. Less than a minute later the cars pulled up, and Dmitry smiled as Vlad stepped out and rushed to his side.

* * *

The next hour was a blur. The White Russians quickly took command of the situation. When they arrived, Anya had barely the time to explain how Oxana had betrayed them before she was whisked away. They quickly loaded Dmitry and her into a car. Pietr took the honor of riding back with her, and Vlad insisted on coming as well. Others stayed to scrub the scene of evidence. It was only after they had driven a safe distance that Anya added Gleb’s part in that final scene. Pietr did not take the news well.

As soon as they arrived at the Empress’ townhome, Pietr began to recount to the other men what had happened. He mostly focused on the betrayal by Oxana but barely concealed his contempt of Anya’s judgement around “the filthy bolshevik.” Dmitry and Vlad were taken to a separate room to tend to the gunshot wound, and she was left alone with the White Russians as she was asked an exhausting round of questions. Then the Empress swept into the room, and Anya had to begin her story for the 4th time in that hour.

Discussion lasted for what felt like ages. Everyone was appalled that Oxana had betrayed them and had come so close to killing Her Royal Highness. Anya was faced with several profuse apologies and vows of vengeance on her behalf. There were some murmerings just in earshot about finding and taking care of “that bolshevik,” but she was too exhausted to protest. She would merely nod or shake her head. Finally, the Empress declared everyone should go to bed and that this could be revisited after everyone had gotten some rest.

She was finally allowed to return to Dmitry’s side and caught the end of what sounded like a lively conversation between him and Vlad on drawing the line between recklessness and heroics. She smiled as she knocked on the door. The conversation stopped, and Vlad opened the door. When he saw her, he pulled her into a crushing hug. She returned it with feeling. Something about that hug made her feel safe for the first time since she’d been taken from the ballet.

“I’d say I’m glad you’re safe,” Vlad said as he pulled back, “but I don’t want to jinx it again.” He gave her a wry smile, and she could see that he was holding back tears. She smiled back, not sure what to say.

“Sorry for getting him into so much trouble, Vlad,” she said, only half joking.

“Hey. I got myself into trouble, thank you very much,” Dmitry shot back. They all laughed.

“Can I talk to him alone?” Anya asked Vlad. She saw him hesitate for a moment before nodding. Vlad stepped out and Anya took in the room. It was tastefully decorated. Warm wood furniture with plush velvet upholstery. Beautifully embroidered curtains where Anya could see the first rays of dawn’s light creep through.

Dmitry was stretched out on a single bed, propped up to a sitting position on pillows. His shoulder was bandaged, and his arm was strapped to his chest. A chair was pulled up to the bed where Vlad had presumably been sitting. She crossed to him and sank into the chair. Dmitry was watching her with sudden uncertainty.

“Y-your Highness?” Dmitry shifted on his pillows. Anya’s eyebrows shot up; he was being completely serious, and she almost laughed.

“After everything we’ve been through, you more than anyone can call me Anya.” She smiled, and he smiled back in an inexplicably shy manner. “Are you doing alright?”

“Yeah I’m fine,” he said. He sat a little straighter, trying to look aloof. Anya didn’t buy it. Her urge was to tease him for posturing. It was easy to fall into their customary exchange of quips, but instead she took his good hand into hers.

“Thank you for saving my life,” she said seriously, trying to convey in a look everything he meant to her, “and for everything. I never would have found my family without you.” To her surprise, he recoiled, pulling his hand out of her grip.

“I’m happy for you.” He spoke stiffly and wouldn’t make eye contact. “You must be wanting to go and get some sleep.”

“What?” Anya felt cold. He hunkered down, crossing his other arm across his chest.

“I can’t do this Anya. I have to let you go. I can’t-” He breathed out sharply. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in love with someone I can’t have.” The declaration came out in a rush. She blinked in surprise.

“Who says you have to let me go?” she said after a moment. Dmitry looked up, almost annoyed.

“You’re a princess. You have a whole wonderful, magical life ahead of you. Princesses don’t marry conmen.” Dmitry was staring at his lap, seeming to be just barely keeping his temper under control. Anya felt her heart swell at the mention of marriage.

“I intend to keep my promise to Gleb,” Anya said quietly. He sent her a sideways glance. “I’m going to disappear.”

She moved from the chair and sat on the edge of his bed. She realized he had been absent for her horrifying reintroduction to what a royal life would mean. She took his hand again and explained all the reasons she intended to keep her promise. He listened, and she was rewarded with seeing hope start to flicker across his face.

“But I don’t want to leave alone,” she said shyly, and she felt Dmitry’s hand tighten around hers. “I’d like to start a new life with someone I love.” And with that, she kissed him.

* * *

It was late morning. Vlad knocked lightly on the door to Dmitry’s room. There wasn’t an answer. He hated to wake him after that long night, but Dmitry’s bandage needed changing. As he cracked open the door and stuck his head in he saw Anya had stayed with Dmitry. In his bed. They had apparently managed to fall asleep crammed in together.

Vlad carefully withdrew his head and closed the door again. He waited a moment, considering his next move, and then knocked quite loudly. He heard movement and the quick shuffling of feet. Vlad pretended not to notice.

“Come in,” Dmitry’s voice called. Vlad opened the door, and Anya was back on the chair, pretending to doze. Dmitry sat in bed with an aura of innocence that would have fooled most people who weren’t Vlad. Vlad smiled.

“I’m sorry to have to wake you but I need to change your bandage.” Vlad walked to the edge of the bed. The chair was in the way. “Sorry m’dear, but you’re in the way. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Oh, of course.” Anya got up, making a show of stretching before moving the chair. “What time is it? I was so tired I guess I just drifted off right here.”

Vlad would have to have a talk with them later. It really wouldn’t work for royalty to consort with common folk. But, for the moment, he felt so overwhelmed with the knowledge that they were both alive that he couldn’t begrudge them a moment of peace after their terrifying night. As he helped Dmitry with his bandages, he began to idly wonder if he could set up Dmitry as some sort of noble and give him a fighting chance.

“Did you bring food?” Dmitry asked.

“No, but if you pull on this string it will ring for servants who can bring you food.” Anya and Dmitry stared at him blankly.

“Really?” Dmitry said.

“Yes, really,” Vlad answered, amused. “Let me show you.” He rang the bell. “Someone should be here in a minute or two.”

“You sure you want to give this up Anya?” Dmitry joked. Anya batted him playfully. Vlad gave them a sharp look.

“Give this up?” Vlad saw Anya freeze, then straighten the way she did when she was trying to channel her royal authority.

“I can’t stay Vlad. I swore I’d disappear,” she deflated a little after that declaration, “and if I’m honest I want to. I can’t be- won’t be who they want.” He supposed he couldn’t be surprised after everything that had happened. Had it only taken hours? It felt like months.

“What will you do instead?” he asked gently. He wanted to persuade her to stay but found he had nothing he could say.

“Go somewhere far away where I can just live a normal life.”

“Feed people?” Vlad asked with a smile. Anya smiled back and nodded.

“I see. And is this grifter coming with you?” Vlad asked, turning to Dmitry.

“Hey!” Dmitry said with mock offense.

“He is,” Anya said firmly. They looked at each other, and the way their faces softened into smiles warmed his heart.

“You better look after him, you hear? Try not to let him get into too many more scrapes like this,” Vlad said, making a point of looking over the bruises on his face and the bandaged shoulder.

“I promise,” Anya said, then added, “you could come too.” Vlad smiled at that.

“I’m getting old, I think I’m ready to retire from running. I can’t leave my dear, sweet Lily, and she can’t leave the Empress.” There was a moment of silence.

“I’m going to miss you both terribly,” he said. He looked at Dmitry. It would be quite the change. They had been so reliant on each other for so long it was hard to imagine life without him.

“It’ll be hard going without you.” He took Dmitry’s hand. Dmitry shifted uncomfortably, not used to this display of affection. He glanced at Anya. “I wouldn’t give you away to anyone less.” He crushed them both in a hug.

There was a moment. It was filled with the kind of peace that can only be found by people who had fought together, starved together, and pinned all their hopes and dreams on each other and had those dreams come true, to some extent at least. As their hug pulled apart, the peace was tinged by the bittersweet knowledge that it could be long a time before they would get to share such a moment again.

Vlad, having felt enough, decided it was time to release the moment and his two young friends.

“Well. If this is your chosen path, I guess I don’t need to lecture you two about the importance of locking doors when you’re sleeping together.” Vlad grinned wickedly and was rewarded with two beet red faces.

* * *

“I understand. This isn’t a life I want for you either.” Anastasia, her Anastasia was standing there, holding hands with the common boy that had brought her here. A lifetime ago the idea would have scandalized her beyond belief, but all she could feel was happiness that her Anastasia was standing there, living and breathing.

“Thank you Nana, I wish we had more time.” She could see her Anastasia was holding back tears.

“So do I, but I agree. It cannot be avoided. I’ll tell everyone it was simply a mistake and withdraw the reward. The sooner we get this done the better. Have you decided where you’ll go?” Anastasia shook her head sheepishly.

“Out of Europe is probably best. Perhaps America? I haven’t heard of much activity from the Bolsheviks there, but I do have some reputable acquaintances living there.” Dmitry and Anastasia looked at each other. Dmitry shrugged.

“Yes. I think that’s best,” the Empress said firmly. “I can give you some money to get started, and perhaps the names of a few people who can help get you settled.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you Nana.” Anastasia hesitated for a moment. “There’s one more thing.”

“Of course darling, anything.”

“As royalty you can officiate a marriage, right?” Anastasia’s voice trailed off. The Empress raised her eyebrows. Then let out a little laugh.

* * *

Gleb sat alone with his thoughts, feeling the gentle vibrations of the train. The first day after that fateful night he had wandered around Paris in a daze, not sure what to do. Not really sure what he’d done. He had betrayed the cause his whole life had revolved around. How could he have done that? He had gone mad. Or had he?

The daze had been broken by a little boy shouting about the news. The Empress had withdrawn her reward for Anastasia and said her wish had been “nothing but a dream.” His first response had been relief. Anya was disappearing. The next was calculation. Oxana couldn’t defend herself. They knew she was a double agent. He could simply say she had tried to stop him in the line of duty, and that both she and Anya had died. Who would contradict him? Who would suspect Gleb “Does His Duty” Vaganov of lying.

He had made his report by telegraph, heart pounding. Hours later he had his orders to return home. Now he was simply left with the question of what he would do when he got home.

 _You have plenty to atone for._ The words echoed in Gleb’s mind as he sat on a train back to Russia. _If you’re just going to go back to Russia as if nothing has changed then you should rot in a prison._ That was true certainly, and here he was, lying to his comrades. But what else had to change, could change? The conversations he had that night bounced around his head, unable to mesh with the foundation laid by all his prior convictions. _At least do some good in the world._ Hadn’t he been doing good in the world? Things had been taken to extremes, certainly, but wasn’t it all worth it for the Russia they were building, one of equality for all?

 _Why am I living on the street while you have a home?_ His debate with Dmitry floated back through his head. They weren’t equal. Not yet. Were all the sacrifices for nothing? He had prided himself on his complete and total faith in the state, and now he was questioning everything. He knew intimately what could happen to people who questioned everything.

He felt the train starting to slow. They would be in Leningrad soon. He began to gather his things, feeling grim.

 _At least do some good in the world._ He would. In that much he was determined. He would have to be subtle, but he would not compromise his values again.

* * *

“Look what I brought home today!” Anya said, smiling with satisfaction. She proffered a hand full of bills, coins, and a bag of food. She was waitressing at a Russian restaurant a few blocks from their modest New York apartment. Dmitry smiled at her as she collapsed on their couch. She was still the most dedicated person he knew.

Dmitry took the food and started to set their table. He had gotten home a few hours earlier from his shift at the factory. He couldn’t say he was a fan of the work, but he liked the pay. He could afford things now. Their apartment was tiny, but it was there. They could afford food, heating… a bathtub.

“What do you think? Almost enough to open that Inn?” Anya laughed. That was what they were saving towards, but getting enough seemed like a long way if Dmitry was honest. Still, nothing got Anya down.

“We’re going to do it,” Anya said with conviction, “I don’t care if it takes us 20 years. It’s going to happen.” Dmitry grinned at her.

“I have something for you too.” He waved a letter addressed from Paris at her. It was addressed to both of them. He had already opened it and read his letter from Vlad. Apparently, Lily had made him an “honest” man. The second letter was from the Dowager Empress. Anya sat down and read eagerly.

* * *

It had been almost a year and a half since Anya and Dmitry had fled Paris. Anya was about 5 months pregnant. She was staring at a letter from Paris sitting on their modest kitchen table, unopened. The news had been all over the papers a week ago - Nana had passed away. This was probably the last letter she would ever receive from her. If it was from her. Anya found she had trouble opening it, afraid to close that chapter in her life.

Dmitry put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it lightly. She looked up at him and smiled, trying to hold back tears.

“Do you want me to open it for you?” he asked kindly. She shook her head. She had to open it. There was probably a letter for him in there too. She took a deep breath and sliced it open with a pen knife. She started to reach inside, stopped and then held it out to Dmitry.

“I changed my mind, will you read it first?” she said, feeling a little embarrassed. He nodded and took it from her. He pulled out some paper, and as he did something small but heavy fell to the floor. Anya leaned down to pick it up. It was a necklace, shaped like a flower, with red and green gem or glass. Anya couldn’t tell. She looked back up at Dmitry, his face a soft sort of sad. “What does it say?”

“I think she knew she was close to the end. She’s talking about leaving you money through Lily. Lily’s supposed to come to America with Vlad and help start that Inn ‘when she goes.’”

“Really?” Anya asked, her voice unnaturally high.

“Yes. She was also very excited to be a great grandmother and said she would have to plot some way to meet the new baby if her health recovered.” Anya felt the tears start to fall. It felt so unfair they’d had so little time together. She only had half a dozen letters from Nana to hold onto. The only comfort she could find now was imagining her Nana’s reunion with the rest of her family. They would all be together, watching over her small family now.

“Did she say anything about the necklace?” Anya asked. Dmitry turned the paper over.

“She said she had it made to commemorate you finding each other.” Anya looked back down at it. Rubbing her fingers along the back she felt it was uneven. She flipped it over. In bronze the back read “Together in Paris.” Anya closed her hand over it and held it to her heart. She would treasure it forever.

* * *

Gleb walked down the streets of New York, consulting his list. He was on a mission making contacts with people who could take in Russian refugees. It had been two years since he turned in his badge, and four years since the Anastasia case.

In his unblinking optimism he had thought he would be able to make positive changes from the inside, but it quickly became clear that he was powerless against a system so immense. The day he made that realization was the day he turned in his badge. He had been asked to stop people from fleeing the country, and like Anya he let them go. Thankfully, his comrades at the station thought his resignation had been because of unintentional failure, not because he had actively disobeyed them.

Not long after turning in his badge, one of the men he let escape reached out. He offered Gleb an opportunity to help people targeted by the Bolsheviks to escape from the country. Gleb would be an asset: he had been beyond the borders, could speak multiple languages, and knew how the police operated. Most importantly, they said, he would be doing good for his fellow citizens, a chance to atone for those he had harmed. They wanted him to travel and find sponsors for Russian citizens and occasionally help smuggling people out. A few weeks later, he signed up as a sailor heading to Paris. It worked for him; he had always been best in a system that gave him orders.

As he took a turn down 8th avenue, he saw a man begging on the street and tossed him a penny. The US had ruined their economy. The combination of cold and beggars reminded him of Leningrad. He couldn’t spare much, but what he could he would share. Times were hard everywhere.

His final stop was a Russian owned Inn that he’d been putting off visiting. More than one other contact in the city had mentioned the owners as good people to talk to. Apparently, the people who ran the place were real bleeding hearts, giving things to the many homeless, letting people stay for free for a couple nights.These do-gooders were supposedly named Mr. & Mrs. Novikov. Anya and Dmitry Novikov. They were common names, he reasoned. It could be a coincidence, and by all accounts, whoever these people were, they’d very likely want to be sponsors.

He rounded another corner on 47th and spotted the inn tucked between a pawn shop and what he guessed was an apartment building. He let out a long breath and watched as it froze in the air. He had a letter in his pocket from their mutual contact verifying his identity in addition to the usual letter of introduction he brought from his organization.

He hesitated outside the door, staring at the simple phoenix design painted as a logo. His stomach was tied in knots. _There is nothing to fear,_ he told himself firmly. He stood motionless. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he would see her again. He didn’t know what he would do when that happened. He shook himself and pushed open the door and walked into a surprisingly warm and bright entrance hall.

To the left he saw a small dining room, empty at this time of the afternoon. In the center was a couch, a staircase, and a door, presumably leading to the rooms. The decorations were a little stereotypical, hearkening back to the days of imperial Russia, but he found himself overcome with nostalgia for home nevertheless. It had been almost 2 years since he’d been back, and he had no idea when he’d get to return. To the right of the entrance was a desk with an older Russian looking woman with dark grey curls. She had a familiar look about her.

“Checking in?” she asked politely in English. His English was alright, and getting better with the practice he was getting in the city, but, since this was a Russian Inn, he decided to stick to his first language.

“Are Mr. and Mrs. Novikov here? I have a proposal for them, although I would prefer to discuss it in private.” The woman raised an eyebrow and gave him a curious half-smile.

“They are in. You want to give me a little hint about the nature of this proposal?” she asked, her voice low and flat.

“I, uh, have these letters of introduction,” he said vaguely, his normal script vacating his head as he proffered the letters. She tilted her head, then took the letters from his hand.

“Hmph. Well, I’ll go give them these and see if they want to talk to you, they do love their charities.” She exited from behind the counter and went to door going deeper into the first floor of the hotel. She turned back towards him, a fake smile plastered on her face, “back in a moment.”

As the woman went through the door, a little girl of maybe just two or three slipped past her. She walked up to him curiously, sucking her thumb. She tilted her head and stared up at him with big round eyes. He started to crouch down with a smile.

“Hello, who-” he stopped. Those eyes. His heart skipped a beat. Another coincidence? Was he seeing things because that’s what he wanted or was it really her? He looked up at the door and heard voices approaching. So did the girl; she grinned and toddled past him, now hiding behind his legs. She grinned up at him.

“Sssh,” she said and then giggled. Gleb stared down at her, still stunned. He was trying to figure out what to do when the door opened. His head snapped up. It was Anya.

Their eyes met, and time seemed to stretch as they simply stared at each other. His heart felt as if it stopped. Her face had gone white as she stood frozen in the door.

“Anya, what’s wrong?” He remembered that voice. Dmitry. His heart began going double time. He shouldn’t be here. He couldn’t move. Anya broke eye contact first. He saw her glance down and catch sight of the little girl hiding behind his legs and the absolute terror that crossed her face made his heart break.

“Maria. Come here now,” Anya said, glancing back at Gleb now terrified. He tried to think of something to say. He glanced down and the little girl looked surprised and then sulky as she started to walk back to her mother. Anya hurried forward to scoop her up.

“Anya, what on Earth?” Dmitry pushed open the door, and as his eyes met Gleb recognition flashed across his face. “You! How did you find us?” he demanded, hurrying to step in front of Anya and his small daughter. Gleb felt his jaw working as he tried to force something out.

“I- You- I wasn't-” he sputtered. He took a breath. “I’m so sorry. I’ll - I’ll go.” Dazed, he turned around and went to the door, pulling it open. He staggered outside. Anya. Alive. Happy. Married. A mother. He stopped half a block away, trying to steady his breath and figure out where he was going.

“Gleb? Wait.” Anya’s voice. He turned slowly. She stood there, a few feet away, appearing completely calm. “These letters, are they true?”

He nodded. A hint of smile started to creep onto her face. He started to smile back.

“I can't believe you’re the one going around organizing sponsors for Russian refugees,” she said. "But I'm glad." He nodded again, not sure what to say. He still couldn’t believe it was her. She broke into a smile and he felt as if his heart broke into pieces.

“Welcome to New York, Gleb,” she said, sticking out her hand. He looked from her hand to her face and saw nothing but sincere welcome. He took her hand. It was warm. They shook, and he was ushered back inside.

It took only a couple minutes more of explanation before Dmitry was convinced to welcome him in as well, and, sitting around a table, the three of them began to talk. As tales were exchanged of the past four years, he thought how odd it was that the three of them could now meet as friends. A conman, the son of an anarchist. A Cheka, the son of an executioner. A street-sweeper, the daughter of a Tsar. They all had their own histories to atone for. As he walked home that night, all he could feel was a profound gratitude that there was enough forgiveness in the world for all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read this far. This is the longest story I've ever written to completion and it means a lot that you've come on this journey with me. To those of you who started reading when I was first publishing this, I want to give special thanks for your patience between updates. I know this has taken a long time to come out. I also want to give special thanks to everyone who has left a comment on my fic, it's really kept me motivated to keep coming back even with all those gaps. 
> 
> So for those of you reading this now, maybe quite a long time since I published, if you liked this story and made it all the way to the end drop a comment and let me know, it means so much to know people have read this and enjoyed it.
> 
> \---  
> But wait! Weren't you also going to write a Glenya ending?
> 
> I was. I owe an apology to my Glenya fans. I was on a roll writing back in December and January and got as far as outlining how I wanted their ending to go, and even drafting a couple sections before life took over in full force. In that happy glow, I said I would publish both endings. I've spent a lot of time debating with myself (even while writing this end note) if I should just leave this open in case I get inspired to finally write the Glenya ending, because I didn't want to disappoint anyone, but once I finished editing this chapter I felt complete. I'm ready to put a bow on this and move on to new projects.
> 
> The final section of this ending has been my northstar for quite some time (before I got overly ambitious with my two endings ideas). Gleb is my favorite character (and if I'm perfectly honest I enjoy him most when he's full of conflicted bittersweet feelings.) Ending with Gleb I don't think this chapter has a total Dimya feel either, it's really about all of them finding resolution. When trying to write the Glenya version I had trouble finding the same sort of satisfying conclusion for myself. 
> 
> I hope Glenya fans still enjoyed this ending! If you're really curious what I had in mind for the other ending I could potentially do a bonus content 'deleted scenes' chapter/supplemental fic, and share my vision for how the Glenya ending would have gone and other scenes that got left out. Let me know in the comments and if there's interest I'll figure out the best way to share it.


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